No Substitute
by buddieswithbilis
Summary: Jack Harkness is immortal . Jack Harkness thinks he can make do. But can he?
1. Chapter 1

A/N :

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Firstly …. :

The characters Jack Harkness and Ianto Jones have absolutely nothing to do with me …. …. slowly ambles off, head down; sobbing quietly.

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Secondly … :

I've been making a real effort in trying to dust away at every fug affected corner up top that I could reach ….

Plus I've tried having a little time away from all that is Janto ….

I even tried humouring my mithering x.x. J muse for a while, but that proved to be just as fruitless when it came to injecting some fresh air where it was needed the most.

Finally, I revisited an earlier idea of mine, which saw me digging out, and then editing, something from 'ye olde bwb back catalogue' … ( … thought it might give me that therapeutic kick up the 'Captain Jacksy' that was required. )

Well, originally penned roughly a year ago … this is now the end result …. Five, relatively short (well, short for me), chapters, which, while I'm pretty sure the first two aren't going to be to everybody's taste, I'm hoping (with the final three being more agreeable ) might be accepted as something of a tenuous 'fix-it'. If you can make it to the end of chapter five, you'll see what I mean.

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Oh, and before I forget …

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Thirdly ….. :

To set the mood, the words below were my original inspiration for the coming story and reflect how I believe Jack could quite quickly become if forced to live through every single day in torment ….. consumed not only by his guilt, but also by a constant sense of unbearable loss ….

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The Captain's Lament

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Life ripped apart; hearts left untwined

The solitude is hell defined

His journey long, its path inclined

The Captain's is a tortured mind

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His memory sharp, the guilt deserved …

…. unspoken words now fixed in time

Each life is spent alone, reserved …

….. so each new heart becomes unkind

And nothing there to ease his pain …..

…. his heart is finally rendered blind.

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_The coming tale is set way beyond those initial years of him experiencing nothing but loneliness. _

_Its aim? _

_To show just how selfish a damaged heart can become ….. A demonstration, if you like, of the lengths to which one broken man will go, merely to hold on to the one person that he truly believes he will never … ever … be able to stop himself from loving._

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_Jack Harkness is immortal. _

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_Jack Harkness thinks he can 'make do' …_

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…_... but can he?_

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**No Substitute**

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Chapter One ….. The Cold-hearted Assassin

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Location : Richmond upon Thames, England.

Year : 2065

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Even the moon had given up the ghost. With it reflecting vainly behind a blanket of thunderous looking clouds, the sky above the Thames Valley was dark; much darker than usual. And as they began to fall with an abruptness that only the threat of an oncoming storm could bring, disrupting the relative quiet of Dowman Crescent, heavy drops of rain began to hit their targets; an angry hiss filling the air as spits, followed by spots, quickly became torrential.

In the back yard of number forty two a dog's barking was sounding nothing but insistent, as if the thing was angrily voicing its displeasure at being left out in, this, the second downpour of the evening. Of course, in an ever-changing world, where the truth quite regularly proved itself to be far, far stranger than fiction, only a fool would accept such a situation at face value and, indeed, to one particular individual racing along; not a million miles from that very scene, a more reasonable explanation for the canine's unsociable behaviour would be that it was simply becoming increasingly more fearful for its own safety.

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As the first clap of thunder began to fade, the roar of an engine accelerating along Ackerman's Link began to add something special all of its own to the growing cacophony, and as the vehicle whipped its way round with a screech into Ackerman Drive the glare being created by its xenon headlamps was blinding.

Some would say unnecessarily so.

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The unfamiliar noise finally becoming an issue for the small creature, with its ears twitching, the dog fell silent. The car quickly followed suit and for just a few blissful seconds the only sound was the loud smack of a million and one stair-rods as they continued to slam themselves one after the other, as hard as they possibly could onto the concrete slabs below.

Already bored with the game; seeming almost belligerent in its overruling of Mother Nature and her monopoly of the airwaves , prompting one already anxious animal to re-join the chorus, the car began to accelerate hard again, instantly sending out a menacing growl all of its own.

With normal service resumed, a second flash, even brighter than the last, sheeted its way across a portentous overcrowding of cumulonimbus and with yet another loud roar the archaic Jensen Interceptor attempted to give the ensuing rumble of thunder a run for its money.

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With its early twenty first century livery glinting as it shot past him, covering his ears and averting his eyes, a surprised late night commuter tried to convince himself that the strange sight had merely been the result of him having lounged for far too long in the shuttle-terminus tavern; where he'd shamelessly just spent the last three hours imbibing far too many glasses of that rubbish moonshine that the licensee had been trying to pass off as hypervodka of late. Still, his current level of inebriation being the reason or not, it was with visible relief that he lifted his lids to find that the threat of danger had, thankfully, passed. To his mind this made him an outright winner; he was a clever bastard … even if he said so himself …he knew that, because of his swift reactions, he'd managed to hear no evil, see no evil, and if the authorities decided to question him over the incident before the night was out, he would be able to tell them, hand on heart, that he was not in a position to speak of any, either.

No association. No crime. That's what he'd always been taught. And if being convicted of concealing the existence of such a vehicle (or protecting its owner) was going to mean him having to do a five year stretch of hard-labour at the very least, then he would forever make a point of keeping his ears covered, his eyes closed ….. and his trap shut.

Of course, in the real world there was no earthly reason why a beast like that should still be on the road; they just didn't exist anymore. Developed way back in the second decade, this particular marque had been designed to run on nothing but fossil fuel derivatives, and with those long since having been designated for the use of emergency or government vehicles only, the simple fact that this gas guzzling monster was even in existence meant that its keeper was breaking several laws all at once.

Disappointed with himself, the commuter stopped on the spot to sigh heavily through the torrent of water. He'd been imagining things, hadn't he ….. that type of car just didn't exist anymore … Did it? No. Of course it didn't.

So, perhaps it _was_ the moonshine after all.

A couple of hundred feet up ahead, and just a little further over to his left, an almighty roar sounded out through the rain.

Okay … so perhaps it wasn't the moonshine.

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A metallic green so dark it was almost black; with a mixture of both glamour and stealth the sleek, almost predatory, beauty coasted its way over to the kerb then rumbled along in the guttering until it came to a direct halt outside number forty two. The engine was killed, the blazing lights faded and, in turn, the dog in the back yard of the property once again lost its tongue.

As the driver hauled himself free from the confines of a factory fitted Recaro, first one laced boot, and then another, splashed down onto the wet flagstones. The heavy door was propelled back into its rightful place, the vehicle's alarm activated and as he squinted upward, the lightning made a point of carefully picking out the, equally as electric, blue of his eyes.

Distracted for a second by the new and much more dramatic forked display above, a single shot being fired dragged his attention back to ground level and already starting to make his move he frowned as a terrified shout also came from inside the property. With his coattails whipping out behind him it took just five long bounds for him to cover the entire length of the front driveway.

Gravel crunching loudly, he thudded to a halt and snatching a gun from its holster he used both hands to steady the thing before squeezing the trigger. Unusually there was no kick back; no loud reverb sounding out to cut through the already statically charged atmosphere. In fact, with the whole scene remaining surprisingly silent, the only noticeable difference was the appearance of a very neat square hole where, no more than a moment ago, a Vectro-Tech Corp security device had been sitting.

Coming again from inside the house, something of a more traditional sounding shot succeeded where the unorthodox weapon had failed, and as it continued to shatter the silence it was closely followed by yet another anxious cry. Rushing out a quick cuss of his own, the visitor took one big step backward then, still with very little reverence for anything wooden, he proceeded to boot the already weakened door inward.

Inside, swift reflexes saw him instantly readied with a second gun and rushing forward with his arms outstretched he began to sweep it from side to side.

From the room to his left he heard the same voice as before. "I'm in here! Please … Help me!"

The accent bringing with it a blast from his past, it also managed to send a chill running straight through him.

Hurriedly clutching his weapon to his chest he slammed his body onto the wall and inching his way along to the doorway at the very end, he paused to listen. He'd been hoping to take something of a quick victory here tonight, but it was now clear that his options were in need of some serious rethought. After all, it was only seconds ago that he'd been totally convinced that plan 'A' was the only route to follow for this particular rescue; this would normally have seen him rushing the scene, the idea being that the sudden movement would startle any intruder into surrendering without a fight. But, of course, in having just announced his arrival for him, his right boot had already robbed him of any element of surprise that he might have had.

Every instinct he owned was telling him that in that next room, someone, or something, was just itching for him to make the first move and going with those same gut feelings he decided to use plan 'A' , regardless of his previous misgivings. Someone was waiting for his assistance …. and time was of the essence.

Without another thought, he drew in a deep lungful of air to heighten his senses then threw himself straight through the already opened doorway.

And it was at that very moment … that his whole world started to fall apart.

He was trained for this. He hadn't gone in blind. He wasn't stupid. He'd already accepted that the chances of him being able to deal with what he found here tonight were going to be slim to non-existent, but still, in one swift move, every single last breath that he owned had just been stolen from his lungs.

Deliberately bringing himself up short he adopted an oppressive pose, and making sure that his features were reflecting the same gung-ho attitude he attempted to conceal the raw, emotional and very painful reaction that he was really experiencing. Also, rather disconcertingly, his heart had taken it upon itself to travel northward, and with it sticking firmly at the base of his throat he was being left convinced that the small amount of control he'd arrived with only minutes earlier, was now on the verge of deserting him completely.

Beginning to tremble, but using his best efforts to conceal the fact, he tightened first his left hand, and then his right, around an already sweat slicked grip.

_This was bad … Oh, this was sohhhhhh bad._

_Okay, no ….. This was worse than bad …. The situation had already gone way past the worse than hopeless stage; it was now in desperate need of some divine intervention … _

_Did he have time to pray? _

_Damn … He'd forgotten how to, hadn't he …... _

_Okay, no problem …. he could learn again ….. _

_Yeah ….. He'd remember how to …. _

_Just for him …._

With his eyes darting up to the ceiling, then down to the floor, and then from side to side; eager to make a more detailed note of his surroundings, in no more than a blink, he'd already re-evaluated his position. Not that it was really helping any. With his heart now sitting just a little higher up and beginning to thump out the strangest of beats behind his Adam's apple, he found himself reluctantly having to accept that, whichever way he chose to deal with tonight's situation, he would definitely be walking away from it as a loser in some respect.

His stare locked onto that of the terrified hostage; a show of barely controlled fear was sitting there staring straight back at him. As he forced himself to take in the sight of some very familiar features his insides lurched and he was forced to admit that he was fast approaching panic stations himself. A new feeling of complete and utter helplessness began to sweep through him and with an unforgiving rush it was already on a mission to pilfer every relevant scrap of common sense and logic that it could find.

A tickling sensation at his left temple told him that a trickle of sweat had appeared. The storm still raging away outside was the direct result of the atmosphere over the past two days becoming only more humid, heavy; oppressive, and right now it was doing nothing to help him hold on to his normally cool, calm and collected exterior. Giving his head a quick flick he dealt with the offending bead of moisture, and hoped he'd dealt with the show of evidence before it'd managed to give the game away.

Another line of moisture slid downward to settle at the same spot. His stomach twisted and the new addition of anxiety based cramps began to make him feel nauseous.

_This couldn't be real._

_He was more than open to the idea that all sorts of strange things had their place within this Universe; had been all his life, in fact ….. But this … this was ….. this was ….. No, sorry …. this was just crazy ….._

_How could a situation like this even be possible? This had to be one of his many past victims choosing to wreak their revenge with one almighty mother of a mind game._

_Was he brave enough to call their bluff?_

_Brave enough? Him? Who was it that had willingly offered himself up to the Great Devourer … 'and' survived to tell the tale? …. _

_Come ohhhhhn … Brave enough? Him? Of course he was brave enough …_

… _But what if this wasn't a bluff …_

…_.. What if this wasn't his mind playing tricks on him …..?_

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Tensing his frame, he regrouped his thoughts and focussed, instead, on the intruder.

"Okay, come on, Fox …." He said as confidently as he could, although, in truth, his voice hadn't sounded anywhere near as forceful as he'd been hoping it might. "Don't you think you're maybe overreacting just a little, here?" He added with something of a more sarcastic lilt going on.

His reward was a look of total disinterest.

Subconsciously shifting his weight from one foot to the other he tried taking a different, more authoritative, tack. "Come on, Ban, I'm not joking here. It's game over, buddy; this just isn't funny anymore …. so why don't you do the sensible thing and just …. put …. the damned …. gun …. down!" With a subtle flick of his head he gestured that the creature on the other side of the room should throw its weapon out to the side. "Hey, you never know," He added, reverting to his use of a more jovial style of banter. "….. play ball with me tonight and you just might make it out of this alive."

Ignored once again, his right cheek began to twitch and he scowled across the room. On the surface there was a look in his eyes that spoke of fear and frustration, but underneath that there was something else trying to shine its way through ….. Compassion? Regret? A sadness?

In insisting on standing there completely motionless, the alien itself was managing to be just _'that'_ : very, very ….. _alien _… in every sense of the word. From the strange pulsing vein that ran from the base of its skull right the way over to the middle of its wrinkled forehead …. to its fur swathed lower half (the indigo hairs in that region not only disguising its nakedness, but also complementing, in a rather deliberate fashion, the pale blue skin up top ) ….. all in all it seemed to be just very, very ….. _alien._ Well, compared to all the other examples of late twenty-first century extra-terrestrials found in the Richmond area it was, anyway.

Just above its acutely pointed chin, a couple of thin lines were masquerading as lips. So far they'd yet to form either a smile or a frown and at this point in the proceedings it wouldn't have been entirely unreasonable for anybody unfamiliar with this particular species to have assumed that the strange thing was simply unable to perform either feat.

Further up, there were no ears or nose to speak of, and even though it had the requisite two eyes sitting in what could vaguely be classed the ideal position, every so often they would meld to form something that was mostly reminiscent of one big green almond.

Even the meatless bones of its upper body were a lie; the thing seemed to possess the strength of something much, much larger than itself and trapped in the crook of its arm, with the thing's powerful grip beginning to tighten around his throat even further, rather than give the abhorrence just the slightest sense of satisfaction, the elderly hostage was holding firmly on to his pride and stubbornly swallowing down every strangled cry that threatened to break free.

With the human that had dared to interrupt it still waiting opposite with baited breath, the creature itself was studying the commanding pose of the man. Amusingly, that stare in its opponent's eyes was continuing to send out many mixed signals; all of them very revealing, and that long grey woollen coat of his was not only severely out of its time, it was also a very poor choice, given the temperatures that the region had been experiencing for the past few days. Still, that was the human race for you … very rarely logical.

Without warning it vented a loud and harsh, derisive laugh. The sudden sound made the pensioner's blood run cold and finding himself stumbling as he was tugged sharply onto the creature's side, this time he could do nothing but give voice to his fear.

Out in the yard the dog's persistent yapping became more frantic, almost as if it could sense its owner's increasing sense of anxiety.

"I said … put ….. the gun …. down! And that's an order!" The visitor barked; his addition of a snarl suggesting that, right now, it was business he meant and nothing less.

This time, the creature's response was a sullen, self-enforced silence.

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Hearing his pet becoming only more and more agitated and sensibly deciding that from now on he might make more of an effort to hold on to his own revealing whimpers, the hostage contented himself by imagining that he'd so far been holding up quite well. He was already beginning to think of various methods by which he, himself, could disable the thing next to him then wriggle his way out of its hold.

Of course, imagining that somebody of his age might actually have the ability to do something like that would only ever have been pure wishful thinking on his part and besides, if he _had _managed to think of anything helpful he would then have had to make sure that he could make it happen without causing any damage to his windpipe; which, going by the fact that it was already close to being crushed, would have been nigh on impossible anyway.

Yep, maybe it was time to accept that not only was he too old now to do most things, but he was also going to be of no damned use when it came to defeating the wretched creature.

This final thought found him seriously considering his only other option, which would mean him putting what was left of his faith in that American fellow stood over on the other side of his living room. Unfortunately though, mostly with his own survival stakes in mind, he'd already deducted that the gutsy lad wasn't feeling quite as confident as he was making out. Yes, it was true, he was braced for battle like the bravest of soldiers, and, yes, he'd yelled the last of his commands quite convincingly. But even with his own, rapidly failing, eyesight coming into play the pensioner was completely convinced that he'd seen one momentary flash of doubt appear in those bright blue eyes; a show of fear that had been more than a match for his own, if he were honest.

And now that was leaving him with yet another problem. Because if _'he'd'_ managed to pick up on such a small show of weakness; with it having been staring intently at its enemy for the duration also, the creature would almost certainly have spotted it too.

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Curious, as he earned himself an encouraging smile from the elderly man, the visitor decided to ignore it for the time being and continued to concentrate wholly on hardening his stare, then bracing himself a little more solidly on the spot he set about traversing along another avenue of persuasion.

"Look." He told the alien firmly. "We both know that '_you'_ know how I work, Ban. Which means that you also know how this could end for you. So how about you do yourself this one big favour and go with me on this? You gotta trust me this time, my friend ….. 'cause what I'm tellin' you, _right now_, is that you really, really don't wanna be going down this route … ….. And neither do I for that matter." He thought to add with a soft laugh of realisation slipping out before he could stop it.

Quickly sobering his features he moved on to a more considerate form of persuasion. "Hey, how's about you just let the old guy go …. then we can go find someplace quiet to talk. Just me ….. and Foxbanu-Ban. Come ohhhhhn, Foxy …whady'a say? Have we got a deal?"

Obviously not rating his chances very highly, with his incredibly outdated Royal Air Force garb twisting around his legs, the self-assumed hero crossed one foot over the other, enabling him to take one cautious step to the side and thereby alter his angle of attack.

Disappointing both men, the thing remained stubbornly silent. But in revealing more than it might have liked, its clammy upper body began to wash from one pastel shade to another. The original hue of sky blue slipped into one of pale green then with it morphing, finally, into a shimmering silvery grey; with the standoff still firmly set in place, it seemed that the thing's fascinating show of colours was going to repeat for as long as it remained agitated.

"Talk?" Cutting through the air with an angry snap and making the human contingent in the room jump out of their skin; as the alien spoke its tone was hostile. "You don't want to talk." It continued harshly. "Oh, no, no, no. Because you see, Captain ….. your Foxy here? He is thinking that we both know what it is that you really want."

As a broken cackle sounded from deep within its throat, the alien gave an involuntary twitch and once more the crook of its bony arm tightened around the throat of its captive.

This time, bravery combined with an age related dignity saw the pensioner refuse to acknowledge the change in his circumstances, and looking away from the creature to focus, once again, on this Captain fellow he found himself hoping that the strangely attired young foreigner might, indeed, become his knight in shining armour. "What does it want?" He heard his own voice ask quietly as a set of bright blue eyes locked on to his and held his stare. "I don't understand … why has it chosen me?"

The creature flinched and where there had originally been no sign of a nose, two tiny black holes appeared. As they dilated, a burst of amused air was forced out through them. "Oh, my word. Did you hear that, Jack? He doesn't know who you are. Oh, my, my. How very … ironic. How wonderfully, wonderfully …. ironic." It cackled, its thin excuse for a mouth forcing itself out to the sides before opening to vaguely resemble a toothless smile. "So tell me, Captain. I wonder. What should we do now, hmmm? I mean …. his highly amusing state of amnesia aside …. the old man still rattles Foxbanu-Ban's cage …. which means that he will only continue to be a problem for him."

"Foxy, hey, c'mohhhhhn, don't do th ….."

"You see, Captain …." The creature, interrupted, already laughing in its own strange way at the disapproving expression it had managed to draw from the human opposite. "Foxbanu-Ban is thinking that maybe he should put a bullet through the old man's brain just for fun anyway. What do you think?"

"NO!"

As the shout faded around them, despite the obvious amount of anger contained within it, the old man, once again, had been able to pick up on this so-called Captain's show of anxiety.

"Please, Fox, no …" As he let his shoulders drop, allowing his guard to fall also, the visitor did indeed seem to be struggling somewhat. Aiming his face up to the ceiling and then back down again, as a wave of emotion finally found the tiniest of cracks in his shining armour to squeeze through, his handsome features began to distort unattractively. "….. Don't hurt him, please. Look, I'll do anything. C'mon, Foxy, this is crazy. Please … just tell me what you want."

With the American chap now showing blatant signs of distress, strangely, the hostage found his own fear taking a back seat. There was nothing brave about it; he knew that rather than bravado prompting him, this was more a case of him experiencing an overwhelming and inexplicable need to go over and defend the young man. How was that logical? The difference in age and stature alone was already rendering the idea a ridiculous one … But still, he couldn't shift the sensation. And the way this 'Captain' was looking over at him right now ….. as if there were already a connection between them? It was so confusing. It was making him feel so incredibly sad. Those pained eyes were imploring him to do something, but he had no idea what it was. Why was he suddenly feeling so protective of a complete stranger? Why did he feel so drawn to that face? And why had that damned accent of his started to send shivers down his spine?

An abrupt response from the alien quickly reclaimed his attention.

"Foxbanu-Ban wants _you_, Jack. But then you already know that, don't you?" It was saying.

Accepting that the soft noise of exasperation coming from the man opposite was all it was destined to receive, the alien's head inclined in an almost melancholic manner. "Foxbanu-Ban wants you to return his feelings, Jack ….." It said with that same strange smile from earlier making another appearance. "And if you want this old man, here, to live, then you must promise your Foxy that, from now on, there will be only him your life."

Weapon still aimed directly at the alien's head, but with his stance beginning to soften again, the young Captain teased the alien with what, to the pensioner, appeared to be a forced smile. "Hey, look, if that's what you really want ….." He told it softly. "Then, yeah, okay, you got it. Now just let the gentleman join me over here on this side of the room …. and then, like I said, we can go someplace else and just sift our way out of this whole stupid mess.

"Ohhhhhhh, Jack ….." Looking sad, the creature sent a long black tongue flicking out towards its captive to leave a shiny wet line clinging to one cheek. "You are full of words ….. and as usual, they mean nothing at all."

As the elderly gent started to tremble in its hold, the creature leaned forward to sniff noisily at him, and having drawn in enough of his human scent to confirm what it already knew, it pressed its clammy forehead onto one sweat covered temple. "Foxbanu-Ban hates you, old man. He hates you with every cell in his body. He loathes you; he always has. And now …." It pulled back with a tight, yet intensely satisfied grin on show. "….. Foxbanu-Ban is going to kill you …"

"Then I guess I'm just gonna have to take you out first." As he took aim, there was no trace of malice in the Captain's words, only a deep sense of regret.

"Would you kill me, though? Could you really kill me, Jack?" The alien asked putting its head to one side again, almost child-like.

The reply was instant. "In a blink."

The damning words drawing a whimper from it, the creature started to become agitated; shimmering again from one colour through to the next. "But your Foxy does not wish to die." It whined, a sense of desperation sounding through as it spoke. "Please, Jack, Foxbanu-Ban is happy here with you; all he has ever wanted is to be with you ….."

Broad, woollen covered shoulders sagged with despair. "But you _are_ with me, goddammit! How can you not see that? We've had the best part of thirty years together …. and they haven't been all bad …. so why should I want to change things now?"

"Fox thinks we both know why, Jack …" The creature told him; a new chill sounding in its voice as its slitted eyes began to slide to the left.

And with those icy words, the fate of the old man was sealed.

Pushing the barrel of an antiquated revolver hard onto the pensioner's temple, the alien stared across the room imploringly. "Fox is sorry, Jack …. but he cannot let this human have you. You are _mine!_ " It wailed, unbelievably managing to sound more alien than ever. "You belong to Foxbanu-Ban….. And _this one_ has to go."

"Then, so do you, my friend." The Captain was already closing the distance, step by slow and careful step. "I really don't want things to end like this, Fox, but I swear …. I mean it …. if you harm just one …."

His voice finally breaking, the younger man paused to glance sadly at the elderly gentleman, then with a new level of anger creeping in he stared at the alien. "Okay, no more of your games, Fox; I'm serious ….. You hurt him …" Fury steadily rising, his voice was beginning to shake. "….. Then, trust me .…. I really _will _blow your brains into the next fucking century. Understood?"

"And if Fox decides to let the old man go?"

"Then you win." The reply was delivered immediately, with a matter of fact shrug. "We both go straight back home and pretend this never happened. We were never here … Okay?"

"And you will now say those special words to Fox?"

Outside, the rain was still lashing noisily against the front window. Out in the back yard the dog was forever present with its raucous yapping. But inside, with the Captain seemingly unaware of how long, or of just how longingly he'd been staring at the elderly gentleman opposite, there was nothing but a telling silence in the air.

Finally he spoke.

"Yes ….okay, I'll say them." He said quietly, his eyes still focussed on the pensioner. "But only once we're alone." He insisted, looking back to the alien with a reassuring smile forming.

Withdrawing its bony limb from around the hostage's throat then spreading its lips into a more relieved smile, there was nothing but adoration showing on the creature's face. Without any further hesitation it dropped its weapon to the floor and stood there defenceless, displaying a total sense of trust for the human opposite.

In return the Captain's smile became strangely rueful, and after allowing the creature a whispered, "I really _did_ love you, Foxy." … he sent a beam of light searing straight through the centre of its forehead.

And as Foxbanu-Ban's brain began to melt within the confines of his skull, he stared back at his love through already dull and lifeless eyes.

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Watching the creature crumple to the ground, the old man stared down, eyes widening; lips parting with astonishment.

"Are you okay?" Weapon holstered, the Captain was already closing the gap.

Still waiting for the sense of relief to hit home; more attuned to the fact that his heart had started to pound much more noticeably, the hostage was vaguely aware that one large hand was now grasping firmly onto his left arm and that another was closing around his right. He knew he should be thanking the young man, should be acknowledging the fact that he'd just been rescued, but all he felt able to do was stare down at the body on his living room floor.

"Sir? Hey, are you okay? You're safe now. Sir? Are you okay?"

As they were repeated for a second time, the words finally registered.

"Yes … Yes. A bit shaken ….. but, yes, I'm fine thank you, son …." the pensioner replied, his nod coming as an afterthought; his mind still distracted by the dead alien and the mild constricting feeling within his chest.

Looking down again, "Oh, thank god." he heard the Captain gush dramatically onto the top of his head; sounding noticeably more relieved than would normally have been the case between two complete strangers.

It was then that the atmosphere changed and within the space of a second the young man had dropped dramatically to his knees. The saved hostage watched on curiously as the man responsible for his continued survival leaned over to find the demised creature's thin lips then kissed them with a surprising gentleness before pulling back to whisper, "I am so, so sorry, my friend."

Feeling strangely remorseful for a crime that he, himself, hadn't actually committed, "Is this how you treat all of your friends, Captain?" he heard himself ask, watching the real cold hearted assassin of the moment rise to his feet.

Taking in his surprised expression, it was instantly obvious to the elderly gent that this so called 'Captain' had been thrown by his words but, nevertheless, a hand was still being extended in his direction.

Reluctantly accepting the young airman's offer of a shake, he found his deep-seated sense of decency making another unforced show. "That was nothing but cold bloodied murder, young man," he frowned. "That creature had surrendered its weapon and was no longer a threat to either of us, so why would you behave so cruelly? And whatever that thing was," he added, thinking to soften his tone. " ….. I have to say; it's affection for yourself was patently clear."

With the truth of those particular words seeming to wound him more than the last, the hero of the hour looked taken aback by the show of directness. "I'm sorry things seem that way to you," he said with a slow shake of his head. "But I'm afraid I just couldn't trust this particular friend anymore. If he'd walked out of here with me today he would only have come back another time to finish the job, I'm certain of that." He explained, anxious for the old man to understand his motives. "And I'm sorry, but there is no way on this Earth that I'm going to let that happen."

"Well, in that case I shall do what I should have done to start with." Nodded the pensioner; shaking the hand still clasping just a little too firmly onto his own. "Which is to thank you for coming to my assistance, tonight."

His own sense of apprehension clearly fading also, the Captain shook back gratefully and allowed his dashing smile to make a show,"Capn' Jack Harkness, at your service, Sir." he declared, dipping politely as a delighted twinkle made a show in both of those bright blue eyes.

The less than formal introduction and surprising addition of a small bow was accepted with a tentative nod. "Well, again, thank you for your assistance, Captain Harkness."

Held by his stare, the older man was trying to ignore his inner prompt that was insisting he should be doing so much more than just return the handsome young man's smile. "I'm Jones …" he finally got around to announcing in a distinctive Welsh accent. "…. Geraint Jones."

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tbc.

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**A/N :**

And that last line hasn't fooled any of you ….. has it! ( grins ).


	2. Chapter 2

No Substitute

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Chapter Two …. The Delusional Custodian

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( Twenty four years earlier … )

Location : Richmond upon Thames, England

Year : 2041

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With more than just a hint of satisfaction written all over his own, Jack Harkness stared down at the face below and sighed in quiet appreciation of the one thing he knew he'd never grow tired of seeing, because with the smile he was currently wearing and heavily drenched in sweat, Ianto Jones was without doubt the most beautiful sight in the whole known Universe.

There was a time when the Captain would have reacted unfavourably to someone disagreeing with this fact, he'd spent many a night waiting for various individuals to regain consciousness just so that he could break another finger before knocking them straight back out again. Of course, he hadn't actually allowed anyone near his Welshman in a while now, so the issue of how exquisite he could look at this particular moment was kind of irrelevant to anybody but himself … which was fine …. he was growing a little bored of the whole bone-breaking routine.

Allowing his young companion to recover his breath, the older man took his time in cleaning them both up then lay on his side to face his weary, yet sated, Welshman. Returning the smile he was being given he lightly brushed a cheek bone with one crooked finger then closed his eyes.

It was always at this point that he would opt to lose himself, and doing so right now, he knew that Ianto wouldn't mind; that he understood his need to have this moment alone with his thoughts. It was now, as they lay there experiencing that coming down period; the calm of after-glow silence, that his mind found it most easy to wander, to recall a deeper sense of fulfilment; to remember a feeling of being truly wanted …. a feeling that, if he was honest, he didn't really get anymore.

These last few hours of the day were when he considered himself to be in his element. His stamina never having failed him yet, this late-night session between them had quickly become his most favourite routine of all. It suited him, suited his needs. It was, in fact, the one single thing that was making this pointless life of his worth living ….. Not that he actually had any choice in ending the damned thing, of course.

He travelled deep into his past, found who it was he was looking for and sighed. Overall, from day to day, the memories were mostly happy ones, but sometimes even those happy ones could make him cry. This time when he opened his eyes he was smiling, and with his moment of reminiscing over he reached up to his lover's wrist and began to trace the tip of one finger along the curve of composite metal sitting there. Mostly still in a world of his own, he took a moment to distractedly inspect the pewter coloured band. "I love you, Ianto Jones." He whispered quietly, almost as if to himself, then wrapping his limbs possessively around the young man in his hold he pushed his forehead as hard as he could onto the one beneath his and closed his eyes again.

There was a brief moment of awkward tensing and twisting of uncomfortable limbs then, not surprisingly, the areas of skin pressing directly onto his upper body became unpleasantly cold and clammy.

With an audible sigh, he climbed from the bed. "Come on," he said, struggling to keep the disappointment from his voice, "it's time you went back to your own room, anyway."

After pulling the same navy tee from the last few days over his head he balanced ungainly on the spot to step commando into a pair of dark grey work trousers. "Come on, up you get," he ordered, now starting to sound more irritated than anything, "I can't take a shower 'til I know you're all safely tucked away."

Still on the bed, and now shimmering through an ever-changing show of blue, green and silver, a creature that could never be classed as human, let alone Welsh, attempted to form its thin lipped mouth into a pout. "Fox prefers it here." it scowled, giving up on looking sorry for itself. "Why do you always make him go back to that horrid room?"

Fastening the buttons of his fly in the wrong order, then undoing them with a huff to start all over again, Captain Jack Harkness looked up to sneer disdainfully in the creature's direction, then stared back down at his lower half to, this time, locate the correct hole. Finally he righted himself to send the Seran shifter in his charge, a quick shrug.

"Find a way to convince me that you won't try to escape, Foxy …. and maybe _then_ I'll consider letting you spend the night in here with me." He said sternly, the irritated irk to his voice suggesting that he felt he was doing the alien a favour, rather than actually looking forward to the experience himself.

"But how many times do I have to tell you?" Its strange voice began to plead. "Foxbanu-Ban will not try to escape."

"And how many times do I have to tell _you …_" pausing mid-comeback to look down at the floor, the Captain shook his head, tutting noisily as he spotted, then reached out for, his left boot. Steadying it, he slipped a naked foot inside. "… that _I _don't believe you? And are we really having this conversation again?" He finished with sigh.

Not bothering to tie the lace, he commenced with the search for his second item of footwear. "You know I can't take a chance on you gettin' the urge to run." He admonished, sounding distracted as he continued to scour the area around him. "You make a break for it and, well, I'm just gonna have to shoot you, aren't I, and ….." Pausing again he gave a grunt; satisfied at finally having located his other boot in the far corner of the room. With a cursory sideways glance at the continuing fluctuation of colours he made his way over to retrieve it. "…. I don't think I can face doing that just yet." After righting the boot with his bare toes, he stepped into it before finally turning to the door. "Come on," he sighed wearily, "you know the routine."

Sliding itself dejectedly over to the side of the bed, the shifter was looking thoughtfully back at him. "Well, tomorrow, can Fox be somebody else for a change?"

"NO! You have to be Ianto!" With his expression now desperate and telling so many stories, his voice dropped to barely a whisper. "…. You must always be Ianto." He said looking away, as if embarrassed by his sudden outburst.

"Coffee as usual in the morning then, is it, Sir?" With a taut-lipped, almost ironic smile of self-amusement managing to form, the Seran moved slowly over to where his master was waiting for him.

The immortal returned the smile, genuinely amused, himself, by the creature's words. "I've left some fresh beans for you in the kitchen," he told his charge, "do your best."

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The next morning, and bang on time as usual, as the band around its wrist began to glow, the Seran heard the door to its windowless room open with a click.

And half an hour later, Captain Jack Harkness had his coffee served to him by an incredibly hot young Welshman wearing a smart grey suit, a rather fetching deep red shirt and one carefully co-ordinated striped silk tie.

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TWTWTWTWTWTWTWTWTWTWTWTWTWTWTWTWTWTWTWTWTWTW

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( Ten years later …. )

Location : Richmond upon Thames, England

Year : 2051

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"You know … you're like a fine wine; you improve with age." Edging his way lower, the Captain traced a line of wet kisses downward to finally sink his teeth into one of two very pert and tempting globes.

"Oh, yeah …" The quivering backside hitched higher in response. "More! Again, Jack, again! Please … more!"

Sitting up abruptly, his face a picture of pure frustration, the Captain climbed from the bed.

With a surprised whine, and twisting his naked form around to sit cross-legged, Ianto Jones peered up in total confusion. "Jack? What's wrong? It's not time yet, why've you stopped?"

"You never beg me to do anything … you hear?" With the glow from the side-lamp picking out all of his best features, Jack Harkness looked angry as he folded his arms commandingly. "I've told you before, Fox, I know I have. Ianto was dignified, he had self-control; an _unbelievable_ amount of self-control …. and he certainly wouldn't have begged me to do anything like that."

A remorseful blue creature appeared before him, instantly looking up for forgiveness. "Sorry, Jack. Fox gets things muddled sometimes ….he does not have long enough each time to learn everything. If you were to let him be your Ianto all of the time for you, he would be able to learn more." It tried. "Let Foxbanu-Ban live as your Ianto Jones did …. allow him to be a real part of your life … outside of this room ….. outside of this building."

"Hey, nice try an' all that, but I'm sorry, the answer's still no; you know you'll try to escape." Retaking his place on the bed as his Welshman re-materialised, all naked flesh and fluttering dark lashes before him, having just sounded a little more forgiving, the Captain reached out to take hold of one hand in consolation.

"But I have the band." Ianto shrugged, holding his wrist higher in demonstration. "How far do you think I'd get before you either traced me and dragged me back, or just detonated it out of temper?"

Jack Harkness laughed sadly at his companion. "Foxy, if I allow you to go beyond these walls we both know damn well what'll happen."

"What …. this?"

He frowned as a mouse crawled its way out from inside of the band to twitch its whiskers up at him. A few seconds later Ianto was sat there again; band pinched triumphantly between his fingers.

"Exactly." Taking it from him, Jack snapped the device back into place before tapping out a sequence on his own wrist-strap to rearm it. "I guess I should just count myself lucky that you can't transform yourself into anything smaller," he sighed, gratefully, "it's bad enough having to remember to activate the field over every window each time I leave the place, let alone have the hassle of blocking up the keyholes as well."

In an instant the Seran reappeared as itself; its slitted eyes blazing as it flushed through an up-tempo version of its usual sequence. "How many more times does Fox have to tell you?" Frustrated and now just generally pissed off at its master, it fell back heavily onto the bedroom wall looking largely displeased. "How much longer are you going to make Foxbanu-Ban play this ridiculous game, Jack? He's been here for, how long now, ten, eleven years? And how many times has he tried to run away from you?"

"Twice." He was told abruptly, the offence that the Captain taken on each occasion still evident to this day.

"Agreed, in the first three months before he got to know you, yes, he did. But since then?" Its colour resetting to base blue, the creature gave a sigh. "I'd have thought you'd have realised by now, Jack; you don't have to hold Fox as your prisoner _or_ issue him with any of these stupid threats of yours to keep him here. And anyway, as a mouse Foxbanu-Ban has teeth … has it never occurred to you that he could simply gnaw his way out of this horrid place if he really wanted to?"

Knowing that every word the Seran was saying was making perfect sense, staring guiltily down at the bed clothes with nothing valid to say himself, all the creature's 'jailer' could offer in return was a wordless shrug.

"Jack, when Fox is your Ianto Jones for you, he doesn't just look like him, he has the same feelings as him; he aches for you in exactly the same way, and he wants to have forever with you …. because that's exactly what _your_ Ianto always wanted. And if it means that he gets to stay right here with you ….." the alien finished quietly, "then Foxbanu-Ban will _always_ be your Ianto Jones for you … Always, Jack."

This time the creature was acknowledged with a soft smile of thanks … but still finding himself consumed by that same old fear of loneliness, the Captain was unrepentant. "I'm sorry, but I'm still not prepared to take that chance." He sighed, sadly. "Don't you see ….." his voice starting to tremble; his features crumpled as he slowly shook his head at the alien. "I can't do it. I can't lose you … not again …. I just can't …..."

The atmosphere changed in an instant and holding its master's stare the shifter started to become agitated again. "Who were you just talking to, Captain? Was it Ianto? Because he wasn't here. It was Foxbanu-Ban all the time that was sitting here before you." Pushing his point home, the creature flushed green, silver and then back to blue. "He is never coming back, Jack, can't you see that? Your Ianto Jones is gone …. he isn't here anymore. … But I am." The Seran finished with a whisper. "The heart of Foxbanu-Ban is here for you right now."

Not having needed to hear the harsh reminder, the words had sliced deep and left him hurting beyond belief, but sniffing in a deep breath in defiance of the truth, Jack Harkness lived to fight another day. "If you try to run …" he growled, his features distorting as he made a point of deliberately ignoring the declaration tagged on to the end, "I'll have no problem with shooting you. 'Cause, you see, Ban …. I really would rather kill you than let you go."

In something of a last ditched, extra-terrestrial, attempt at a save, the Welshman reappeared on the bed. "But, Jack …. I love you so much."

"Ha!" With his cry of victory loud, the Captain was off of the bed and back on his feet. "You see! This is exactly what I mean." He blustered, starting to pace. "How am I supposed to trust you when you come out with lines like that?"

Coming to an abrupt halt, his head pitched over to one side. "You know what your problem is Fox? You don't care enough about the important things. You don't care enough about _Ianto_ to really want to be him. If you did you'd know that he'd never have used those words. He would've been subtle, would've have left me wondering for hours over some mildly sarcastic comment that he'd just made."

After staring disdainfully at his charge; waiting for a response that was apparently never going to come, he started to pace again. "Ianto's statement wouldn't have been direct like yours, it would've been something clever, laced with just a hint of underlying declaration ….. and he'd walk around the place all damn day with that cute smile on his face; teasing me, because he knew I'd always get there in the end. And when I did finally get what he'd meant, it always made him happy, even though he knew I'd never be able to bring myself to return his feelings."

Another memory doing its worst, he paused to draw in a shuddering breath. "You might look like Ianto … but don't make the mistake of thinking you could ever make me feel the way that he did. You want my trust, Fox? You need to try much harder than this. Prove to me how much you want this; try to be more like the real Ianto ….. and then, but only then, I might start to take you seriously."

Back in control; his guilt temporarily eased, the immortal began to look around for his clothing. "I'm sorry, Foxbanu …" he sighed over to the creature, "but I just can't bring myself to trust you ….. I'm afraid it's as simple as that."

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TWTWTWTWTWTWTWTWTWTWTWTWTWTWTWTWTWTWTWTWTWTW

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( Another 10 years on ….. )

Location : Richmond upon Thames, England

Year : 2061

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"Good evening, gentlemen. Is everything to your satisfaction? I sincerely hope that you are both enjoying your meal. Please activate the sensor on your table should you require any further assistance." With the slightest of squeaks, the droid travelled backward on its rollerball; its head pivoting in a polite incline.

Jack Harkness smiled across at his companion and covering a hand with one of his own he gave it a hard squeeze. "It's been a good day." He acknowledged with something of a reluctant smile.

Nodding his agreement Ianto Jones was looking just a little more happier than his partner. "I'm glad the weather held out for us, and I'm pleased that you enjoyed yourself, Jack." He smiled before picking up his glass of wine and allowing just the smallest hint of smugness to show. "I told you you would, didn't I …..." He added rather superciliously.

Picking up his own glass, the older man sat back with a sigh to take a sip. "Yeah, okay, you were right …. as usual. But I just never saw myself as being a regatta kinda guy before, that's all; kinda forget the Thames is so close by, most of the time."

"You enjoyed yourself, though? It was good …. wasn't it?" With his free hand clutching at his chopsticks and expertly feeding some fried cabbage in through his lips, the Welshman crunched around it with a smile.

"Yeah, it was good ….. and yes, I really did enjoy myself." The Captain conceded, twisting his fork around in a pile of soy-coated noodles; sending the other man a brief wink before devouring a huge mouthful of them.

His partner rolled his eyes at the sight. "And the picnic was fun too." He nodded, before recalling, "But not so much when you decided to peel and feed me those grapes."

Jack Harkness gave his usual grin. "Nothing wrong with feeding the person you love grapes, Ianto. Hey, you know I remember this one time ….." The air around him fell silent as he reconsidered his choice of topic. He'd been about to divulge the saucy details one of the many hedonistic encounters he'd had in ancient Rome, but on witnessing the look already appearing on his current lover's face, he'd quickly thought better of it.

Dabbing a napkin at the corners of his mouth, Ianto Jones did what he always did in this situation, and subtly changed the subject. "So, next weekend," he began, sending the repentant looking man opposite one of his more thoughtful smiles, "Your choice, what do you want to do?"

Always a sign that something was troubling him, that somewhat repentant man had started to play with his food. "Well," he began, with a tone that in an instant made him sound just as guilty as he was suddenly looking. "There _is _somewhere I've been meaning to go visit for ages but ….." He left it there, replacing the rest of his sentence with a shrug and a sigh, then went back to his noodle twirling.

The Welshman frowned at him.

"Ah, forget I said anything …." He told him, waving one hand through the air. "It's too far."

The Seran hidden beneath its handsome disguise gave a very ( beyond the mere reaches of your average human's lung capacity ), loud sigh, prompting at least three other diners to stare over at it. "Hasn't Fox proven himself enough to you, yet?" It hissed quietly, this time thinking to keep the knowledge of its alternate origins to itself. "We've had how many months, exactly, of us venturing out for these local treats?"

The Captain, in acknowledging to himself only, that he was maybe taking this whole paranoia thing just a little too far, simply stared down guiltily at his bowl of rapidly cooling Asian delights.

Abandoning his own meal, the perfect replica sitting opposite, settled his chopsticks neatly to one side then fell back heavily in his seat. "How much more does Fox have to be like him?" Changing tack, the shifter reached over to place a hand over its master's. "When are you going to accept that you could be having a normal life again, Jack? You could be out there in the real world …. with Ianto; doing all those things you ever wanted to do ….. with _him_. You know it's time to take that chance, don't you," it sighed, maybe just a little too patronisingly. "And you should now be doing all of those things with me. It's time you faced up to _your_ reality, Jack. I am … your Ianto Jones …."

Taking his hand from inside the Seran's, the Captain began to glower across the table. Instantly the alien's guise began to falter and as he watched it blink away the giveaway flash of green, the lonely immortal leaned in as close as he could. "No, Fox, you're not him, and you never will be." He said through gritted teeth, starting to shake with anger. "And if you ever say anything like that again …. I'll hang you out to dry. Now, come on, move yourself; I need to get out of this place."

Snatching out for a sleeve and forcing him back down onto his seat, the shifter ignored the look he was being given. "You are a very hard man to please, Jack Harkness." It sighed, the Welsh accent still holding firm.

"Never used to be." Came the reply with added head swagger and breathy snort.

The shifter nodded slowly. "And then you met me. Him!" He corrected quickly. "So tell me, Jack, what was it that was so special about this Ianto Jones of yours?"

As the Captain fell back in his seat, shaking his head, he had a curious smile forming. "Now, you see, if you really were my Ianto Jones … you'd've already known the answer to that question. Now come on. We're leaving."

This time allowing him clear passage, the fake Ianto had a frown forming. "Why? So you can go back home and stare at a photograph? Is this is how you are going to waste the rest of your life, Captain? Because spending hours each day, locked away with his image isn't going to make things better you know."

"Don't' talk to me about wasted lives!"

The tables around them fell silent. Jack Harkness didn't notice. "Don't' you DARE tell me that I shouldn't be spending each day of my life remembering him! You're just a pathetic, sad creature that despises itself so much, you spend most of your time trying to be somebody else! And if I wanna look at a photo, I'll look at a goddamned photo!"

"Drowning yourself in memories isn't going to make things any better, Jack, just listen to me …."

"Give me one good reason why I should, Foxy. Come on; tell me, what makes you the expert all of a sudden?"

The shifter watched his lover turn his back on him and remained silent as he began to walk away. It was only when he was out of earshot that he felt brave enough to tell him. "Because every day you shut yourself away for hours with just your memories of him, and every night I hear you cry yourself to sleep because of him. How do I know this isn't working, Jack? Because every single morning I am greeted by a man that is just that little bit _more_ broken than he was the day before.

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JHJHJHJHJHJHJHJHJHJHJHJHJHJHJHJHJHJHJHJHJHJHJHJHJH

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tbc


	3. Chapter 3

No Substitute

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Chapter Three ….. The Blindsided Fool

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Location : Richmond upon Thames, England.

Year : 2065

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"What have you got for me?" Seeing way beyond the smile and inspired to discover the reason for the look of guilt hiding away there, hands deep in his trouser pockets, Jack Harkness slowly began to make his way across his living room to where a suspicious looking Ianto Jones was tapping away at a screen. "Anything I need to take some 'covert' action over?" He joked, not wanting to arouse the Seran's alien instincts.

Its faux smile already fading, the alien shook its head back at him, but not before conspicuously lowering its face from view. "Nope, nothing for you to worry about." It said, just a little too quickly for its keeper's liking. "Just another of those local authority reports regarding yet _another_ raid in the Privileged Quarter. And as this latest one isn't extra-terrestrially related either, I'd say you're safe for one more coffee at the very least, Sir."

"Ohhhkaaay ….." Nodding, though not believing a single word of what he'd just been fed, the Captain paused on his side of the desk and resting the fronts of his thighs against its top edge he leaned forward a little; not too much, just enough to be imposing, yet not threatening. Fox was definitely up to something. He hadn't spent all these years in the company of the creature to not know when he was being distracted with the promise of caffeine. "Mind if I take a quick look? How many of these raids have there been so far?" He asked, lifting his chin inquisitively, intimating that he really wished he could see the front of the screen rather than just the back.

"Oh, they're really not worth bothering with." He was told in an off-handed fashion, then giving him no time to investigate the facts for himself, the Seran tapped at one corner of the screen to leave just the image of a red dragon sitting there. "Why do you get yourself involved in these situations anyway?" It asked starting to sound peeved; its composed archivist mannerisms slipping further by the second. "Torchwood has been gone for decades; you never hear the name mentioned at all now, and as far as that government of yours is concerned, the individuals who _don't_ see you as being a threat are under the impression that you're still off planet. And do I really need to point out the fact that you still insist on carrying out every investigation incognito, which means you get no recognition for the number of human lives that you save _or_ for the risks that you take in transporting every other being back to where it belongs. So, again, Jack ….. why bother? Why put yourself in danger when nobody gives a damn whether you're here or not?"

"Somebody's gotta do it." Jack shrugged, instantly hoping that the gesture hadn't made him seem too cavalier. As far as him receiving accolades for his deeds went, well, he could certainly live without those; the less attention he drew to himself these days the better, but knowing that he was looking after the people that needed him the most, that's what he really appreciated about all of this. And although he always worked alone, some days out in the field it could feel just like old times for him, just without the silliness and the camaraderie. "Besides, what else am I gonna do with myself?" He chuckled trying his best not to reminisce. "And as for that new government set up," he tagged on with a sneer, "I wouldn't trust that lot of hypocrites any further than I could throw 'em."

All the time he'd been talking, he'd been studying his charge's movements. Back in the day, when things had been almost normal for him and his team, if a situation like this had occurred, it would just have been a simple case of the real Ianto trying to conceal the fact that he was innocently doing a little research into his favourite Bond set location, or that he was downloading a new recipe that he was hoping to surprise him with the next time they managed to get a moment alone together. But this Ianto?

Well, there, that said it all didn't it? This wasn't really his Ianto at all was it … and not unsurprisingly, suddenly the fact was making him feel very uneasy. "So," he bluffed jokily, suddenly all teeth as his smile attempted to convey his concern as being a show of amused intrigue and nothing more. "Are you gonna show me what it is you've been up to? Or am I gonna have to come round there and find out for myself?"

The signs he'd been expecting to see came in quick succession, one after the other, first the change in tinge of the Welshman's pallour, then those beautiful blue eyes of his, flashing emerald green before returning to normal. Both instances were his cue to go. He sped around the desk and blocking the arm cutting across him, he barged the Seran out of the way. The loud, Welsh accented, protests quickly became high pitched, sharp and definitely not of this Earth. Ignoring them to quickly give one knowledgeable tap, he brought up the previous screen.

"What the …..?" Straight away there were a million and one questions sitting ready at the tip of his tongue. Mouth pitching open he twisted on the spot to find his deceitful companion. And it was at this point, that Jack Harkness' day went from being just very, very bad to much, much worse.

As the gun at his side was snatched from its holster he wondered when he'd become so complacent as to let his guard slip to this extent. As the hammer was drawn back and his own weapon was aimed at him he realised, in hindsight, that the trust he'd been blindly showing of late had been totally misplaced.

Already having guessed that this wasn't going to end well for him, he chanced a look back at the screen. "It can't be," he gasped, amazed, "Fox? What the hell's going on? How ….."

"I've been doing some digging …." Interrupting as it, too, stared at what appeared to be an image of the true Ianto Jones, the Seran was once again itself. "He's still alive, Jack." It told the man starting to tremble at its side.

"No. This can't be right. Ianto's been dead for nearly sixty years." He said in quiet disbelief.

"Take another look." Keeping the weapon trained on him, the Seran gestured for its master to return his attention to the screen. "You know it's him, don't you, Jack …. you can _feel_ it is …..." Its features twitching with a new frustration, lash-less lids began to blink rapidly. "Foxbanu-Ban has been curious about your Ianto for a long time; could feel something that you could not ….. and he has been looking for him for many years. But it now seems that, all this time, he has been looking in the wrong place."

With the legend; the great, unflappable, heroic Captain Jack Harkness now shaking uncontrollably at its side, making sure to keep its aim true, the creature turned to address the immortal face on. "Why did you choose to settle here in this particular part of the Valley, Jack?" It asked abruptly. "Why this town? Why did you not return to Wales when you came back to Earth for good?"

"Too painful …." Jack admitted straight away, his voice quavering as he finally allowed himself to hope that the image on the screen might be genuine after all. Biting into his bottom lip to distract himself from the building wave of grief, he sank his teeth in and kept on going, digging them in hard until the pain became too much to bear. But it wasn't enough. With the sob still building inside, still burning to be set free, he looked away as his chest heaved tellingly.

Why was he still standing here, he asked himself. He could easily have taken a chance before now and attempted to disarm the creature. And even if, in his current state, he ended up making a complete pig's ear of everything, adding just one more unpleasant death to the thousands that he'd already experienced wouldn't mean the end of his world. Would it? No, it wouldn't, well, not so you'd notice, anyway.

But he was here, in this situation right now, for a reason and to be taken away from this unbelievable moment; this miracle, only to come back and find that the details had been wiped, that would definitely kill him for good … inside. And if there was just the smallest chance that this was his … God, was he crazy allowing himself to think like this? After all this time? It couldn't be ….. could it?

"BUT WHY HERE, JACK?!" The weapon still aimed at its jailer's head, the creature started to flash through its usual, uncontrollable show of blue, green and silver.

"I ….. I don't know ….." The Captain told it, genuinely unsure if he'd ever known the real reason at all. "I guess I never really thought that much about it before." He said, his posture beginning to sag as he continued to stare at the screen. "One day I just found myself passing through this area and decided to stay."

Unhappy with the answer, the Seran started to become agitated, its strange features pinching as it held the gun closer to the Captain's temple. "Were you in this place because you knew _he_ was here, Jack? Tell Fox the truth. Have you been holding him captive for almost thirty years because the real Ianto Jones told you no when you came back to this planet? Or did you choose to use me once the real Ianto became too old to satisfy your needs?" The colours began to pulse and throb as they raced at an angrier pace through their sequence.

"Ianto Jones is DEAD! And he's been dead for over fifty years because of _me_!" Distraught, the immortal kept his eyes trained on the screen. "I'm telling you, that old man … is not Ianto Jones." He choked, trying to remain calm. "All you've found here is somebody who looks remarkably how he would have done, had he lived to become this age."

"You're lying." Making sure to keep him in its sights, the creature began to pace around its master. "You've known all along. You came back to this planet for him, Jack, admit it ….. and you came to this town to be near him!"

The alien fell silent, and turning on the spot to find it, the Captain watched in horror as its features began to twist in a way he'd never seen before.

"You have betrayed me!" It screeched, sounding more off-world than it ever had. "Jack should not have lied to Fox." It hissed, its tongue flicking out like a serpent's.

And with that, the Seran took its revenge.

Slamming back onto the desk, Jack clutched at his stomach in agony; it was messy and painful and his initial loud cry of pain had been wholly justified. Forcing himself upright to waver with one arm outstretched, he took a step forward. "This is crazy, Fox … I mean, if it is really him I swear I didn't know anything ….. you're making a mistaaarrrrghhhhh …"

Another bullet sent him stumbling back onto the desk, the small of his back colliding painfully with it, and face screwing up in agony for a second time, baring his teeth, he growled through the pain as he fought to stay conscious. "Fox! For God's sake, you have to let me …"

"QUIET!" The Seran stepped around him then calmly began to tap away at the details on the screen. "For years Foxbanu-Ban has been searching through hidden government files." It snarled. "And after searching through many classified notes; going all the way back to the incident at that Thames House of yours, he has finally traced your Mr Jones to this area …. And all he had left to do today, Captain, was to find the exact location … and you just had to come in here and start asking questions, didn't you."

The pain from his injuries finally sending Jack to his knees, the Seran stared down at him before side- stepping to deliberately avoid the hand reaching out for assistance.

"Oh, and don't think your Foxy doesn't know how certain, shall we say, strange things happen can with you, Jack." It laughed at him. "Soon you are going to die … but somehow you will survive … and if you are speaking the truth; if you really _are_ only just finding out that your Ianto is still alive, then I am afraid that he will remain to be a constant threat to me. So that leaves Foxbanu-Ban with only one option …" It stared at its master, and now feeling nothing but a sense of betrayal, its heart was slowly becoming as cold as its clammy skin. The light in Jack Harkness' eyes began to fade, and in response the alien's excuse for a mouth twisted into an ugly smile. "This time, Captain ….." It told him delightedly. "Ianto Jones is going to die for real."

"Fox …" Groaning out the name, Jack Harkness slowly looked up to find his own gun being pointed at his forehead.

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JHJHJHJHJHJHJHJHJHJHJHJHJHJHJHJHJHJHJHJHJHJHJHJHJH

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The gasp echoed up to the ceiling and still missing the comfort of those arms after all this time, Jack looked around, dazed. With a loud crack he twisted his neck to loosen it then groaned down at the bloody mess that was once his best shirt.

Slowly starting to recall recent events he reached up; his hand grasping at nothing but air as it sought to find purchase on the edge of the desk, and hauling himself upright with several loud grunts, he focussed on the note waiting to be found. "Ohhhhhhhh, no. No, no, no, no, no, nohhhhhhhh …" The Seran had used Ianto's handwriting and as he continued to read the letter a confusing mixture of both comfort and dread was running through him.

' _Jack, please forgive your Foxy, he has to do this. You are his now and Foxbanu-Ban cannot allow that to change. He loves you, Jack … he will eliminate the problem and then he will be back to look after you.'_

Looking up at the screen he realised that the details, the address, everything, were still being displayed there and hurriedly began to reassess his situation. The only conclusion he could draw right now, was that it must have taken the shifter a lot longer than it had anticipated to access the information … and in reviving he must have spooked Fox into making a quick exit.

Suddenly he became aware of the telling snap of static in the air and cussed, annoyed that he'd only just realised that his manipulator was missing. Still, at least it had only very recently been activated, so maybe all was not lost after all.

He checked the address again then tearing himself away from the screen he rushed through to where his safe was hidden. Taking out what was needed he re-sealed it then made his way through to his bedroom. Glancing quickly in the mirror he caught sight of his bloodied forehead. After a quick splash of cold water and hard rub with a hand towel he was distracted by the sight of more blood.

Snapping his way along a line of hangers, he pulled free and shucked an old favourite of his, a tan coloured Harrington, over his shoulders. Fastening it, he nodded approvingly as it managed to completely cover the already drying stains.

Rushing over to a separate wardrobe in his dressing room he reached in and came away with an item of clothing he thought he'd never get to use again. Slipping it on and stepping in front of a full length mirror he took in the familiar sight. The strangest of feelings swept over him, a mixture of so many, many memories, some good; some bad. And there was this comforting sense of him finally being his real self once again, not just that hidden away nobody that he'd been pretending to be. A decade had it been? No, decades. God, how the time had flown …. Speaking of which …. it was time that he did.

Faithful coat good to go; armed with one weapon guaranteed to gain him easy access to anywhere he liked, and another lethal enough to inflict the necessary wounds, he found the keys to his sorely underused favourite piece of auto-memorabilia then flew out of the door, heading straight for his 'covert' double garage below the building.

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JHJHJHJHJHJHJHJHJHJHJHJHJHJHJHJHJHJHJHJHJHJHJHJHJH

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tbc.


	4. Chapter 4

No Substitute

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Chapter Four … The Ignorant Absentee

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( Approx. fifty six years earlier ….. )

Location : Central London, England.

Year : 2009

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"There was. They did. I mean. Oh, this is some creepy fucking shit, Kev."

The senior morgue assistant checking the details of yet another name-tag looked up to laugh disbelievingly at his co-worker. "Alright, Gav, the fingers moved ….. 'course they did." With a chuckle he stepped around the corpse and made a point of deliberately nudging his inexperienced young assistant closer to the body. "Exactly how many of those slammers did you down last night, mate?" He laughed, looking down to consult the information on his clip-board.

With the original look of horror still sitting firmly on his lackey's face, the older man stopped what he was doing to laugh at him again. "Come on yer daft sod," he grinned. "Shift yer arse and let me slip our mister, um …" pitching himself back at an angle he reached out for the tag again and this time made a better note of the name. "Oh, yeah, that was it …. our mister Jones, 'ere, into the fridge ….. you know, Gav," he laughed. "Just in case he decides to make a run for it."

Still staring down, seemingly transfixed by the peacefully handsome face, his understudy of the past eighteen months looked just about ready to pass out. "Oh, fuck! Look!" Eyes widening with fear, he gestured with a shaky hand for his boss to follow his gaze. "Honest, I swear to God, Kev, I just saw the eye lids move as well. SHIT!" Having already turned white, the young kid managed to send himself back at least five feet with just one jump.

Looking back at him, the older man heaved a huge, senior assistant-like sigh. They were already running late for lunch and his stomach had started to grumble loud enough for all three of them; the stiff included, naturally. Moving further along the sliding shelf; intent only on humouring the kid until he found a way to prove a more experienced point of his own, the head attendant glanced back at his assistant with one final eye-roll then peered downward.

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"Fuck Me!" He said quite categorically.

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**IJIJIJIJIJIJIJIJIJIJIJIJIJIJJIJIJIJIJIIJIJIJIJIJIJIJIJIJIJIJIJIJ**

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Location : Windsor, Berkshire, England.

Year : 2009

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"Look, Mrs Davies, I appreciate your concern but this is highly irregular."

As, for the third time in as many minutes, the unimpressed woman opposite him sat back in her seat to thread her arms tightly together, the doctor in charge did his best to hold her stare. "Your brother, madam, is in a comatose state, the likes of which neither I, nor any of my colleagues, have ever witnessed before, and for his own well-being I believe it imperative that he remain at this facility."

"But this is England, you stupid man." She gasped, affronted. "He's Welsh! He should be at home with me, or at least at a hospital in Cardiff where he can have his family come visit him." As the burgeoning feelings of utter helplessness finally began to overwhelm her she gave a shudder then burst into tears. "I thought I'd lost him, doctor." She wiped at her eyes with the back of one hand. "But there I was, still grieving for my brother, when I get a call out of the blue from some jumped up, two-bit hack asking me how it feels to know he's still alive. Tell me, doctor," she barked abruptly in the hope that her becoming angry might mean she'd be given some sort of an explanation for things at last. "What's the world coming to if the bloody press are the first to pass on information like that?"

The suit and tie (she'd been wondering ever since she'd arrived, why he couldn't have worn a nice comforting white coat, just for her benefit ) on the other side of the desk, nodded as he leaned back in his chair. "Yes, I'm very sorry Mrs Davies, I can only agree with you; that was most unfortunate, and I have to say that the discretion of the hospital staff on that particular day was absolutely appalling."

"Yes, it was …" Rhiannon Davies agreed, her frame sagging; the accompanying sigh instantly prompting her to mourn the loss of her inner Welsh dragon. Was she really going to allow everything to become too much for her again? She wondered.

Reminding herself of who she was and why she was here, she straightened in her seat. "Look, I'm sorry," she told the man flatly, her self-control returning. "I didn't mean to shout at you like that and, please, don't get me wrong; because I really am happy about all of this. But what you have to understand is….."

She stopped speaking to stare sternly at the bald spot on top of his head; it appeared that the sheaf of paperwork on the desk beneath him was suddenly proving to be far more interesting than she was. After a few seconds of displaying a certain amount of arrogance, in presumably having noticed the distinct lack of chatter going on a few feet away, he looked up again, his eyes quizzical; a hint of confusion sitting there.

She allowed him a pinched smile before continuing.

"As I was saying," she started, purely just to let him know that she'd made a note of his rude lack of interest. "I won't feel that my brother is really back with me until he's home again." As the doctor dared to nod understandingly at her, she clasped her hands neatly together in her lap. "Me and my family?" She said pushing on; totally unwilling to shut up now that she'd finally found an avenue to vent along. "We've been to bloody hell and back, I can tell you. First my Mica and David, _and_ every other poor little bugger on our estate, started with that whole hypnotic trance rubbish. Then some woman that my brother's never even mentioned before, turns up to tell me that he's been killed … and there she was, in my house the trumped up madam, talking away like she was Ianto's bloody best friend or something. Oh, and just to top it all off, I find out that the poor bugger's been killed by aliens. Aliens, doctor! Of all sodding things! Now you tell me …" She hurrumphed. "Where was I supposed to go with information like that, hmmmm? A Psychiatrist?" Arms folding onto her chest again, she fidgeted unhappily on her seat. "If you ask me, the whole wide world has gone bloody barmy." She finally decided.

Looking to her right, she gazed out of the window to see a fluffy white cloud floating by. Deciding that it was shaped almost like car, but one with no wheels, she became distracted by it for a second and found herself wishing that she could just climb out onto it and float away from this ruddy doctor and his rudeness _and_ his damned red tape.

Remembering that her brother's needs were far greater than her own, she quickly got back to business with a resigned shrug. "But if that's how things are going to be from now on," she continued, picking up on her previous train of thought. "Then let them get on with it …and just as long those aliens stay away from Cardiff, well, they can do what they bloody well like, can't they!"

Very nearly choking on his moment of smug one-up-man-ship, outwardly the doctor was still smiling politely at his patient's sister, but in remaining to be amused by her comment he could only conclude that this annoying woman actually knew very little about her beloved Cardiff.

"All I want is for my family to be happy and to get my life back in order, doctor. Can you understand that?" Off again and fixing the man opposite with a challenging stare, she continued to make her point. "I want my husband to start smiling again. Is that too much to ask? I want my children to stop crying and …. and I want …. I want my Ianto baaaa …."

The very next breath caught at the back of her throat and brought with it the threat of more sobbing. Swallowing hard, she bravely controlled it. "Oh, God ….." She gasped, clasping a hand over her mouth in realisation. "We wasted so much time the pair of us, there's so much that I need to make up to him; so much that I want to say. Please, doctor, you've got to let me take him home to a hospital 'round our way. We could go private if necessary ….. that bloody place he worked for can pay for it. Yeah, how about we let the government show some recognition for how brave he …..."

With what little fight she had left finally fading, she crumpled in her seat; her shoulders heaving as she began to sob loudly. The doctor slid out a drawer and retrieving a box of Kleenex he skirted his desk to get to her.

After placing a comforting hand on one shoulder he offered her a smile and then a tissue. All three gestures were bathed in as much insincerity as one would expect from a person who had so dubiously slimed their way up one questionable career ladder. After starting out as one of your archetypal 'après-grad' city based goafers, he'd managed to achieve, with relative ease, the slightly more auspicious status of being a 'director's p. a. /standard arse-licker/dogsbody'. Then, in accepting a post which suited him more than he could ever have imagined it would, he'd become 'spin-doctor and fall guy extraordinaire', for somebody influential ( but not _that_ influential ) within Whitehall.

This most latest step in his career; with it proving indisputably that it was not _what_ he knew but _who _he knew, had seen him hungrily lap up the ridiculous amount of power that came with being crowned chief assistant to one of the three acting heads of security based within UNIT London. And other than the honorary doctorate presented to him by some colleagues in his previous post as recognition of his ability to spout copious amounts of bullshit in the shortest time, this 'doctor' had not one single medical qualification to his name.

Not that Rhiannon Davies needed to know that, of course. Up until two weeks ago, to him she was just one of roughly sixty million; just another nameless and faceless statistic. But this nameless and faceless statistic was now proving to be a monumental pain in his backside; the woman appeared to possess enough bull-dog spirit to serve an entire nation. Well, she would have done had she been English. He wasn't quite sure what the Welsh equivalent might be … he couldn't even recall if he'd ever been to Wales.

"Look … Rhiannon." Opting for the more personal approach, and watching her gratefully take another tissue from his box, he squeezed her shoulder for one final time before making his way back over to his desk. "I know this is going to sound harsh." He told her, retaking his seat. "But why don't you try focussing on just how very lucky you and your family have been with all of this? You do know that not one other person survived that attack, don't you."

Noisily clearing his throat, he looked down to avoid her gaze; afraid that she might see through the lie. One other person, her brother's colleague, had managed to escape from the building completely unscathed. But, of course, with that person being exactly who he was, the details of the man's remarkable escape had been conveniently misplaced. "I truly do appreciate your predicament," the 'doctor' carried on, this time almost cutting it in the sincerity stakes. "But the most I can promise you at the moment is that if we do start to see some dramatic signs of improvement, then I will push through the motion to have your brother transferred to Wales. But in the meantime …. I'm afraid your only option is to visit him here."

Rhiannon Davies did her brother proud, she sniffed away her sadness, blinked away her tears and heaving in a deep breath she gave a bright and dimpled smile. "Thank you. I know you'll do your best for him ….." She nodded. "And I'm sorry if I've been rude to you today, but …. I just don't know what to make of anything anymore; do you know what I mean?"

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As he escorted her from the building they shook hands and she thanked him again. Then with one of his well-practised smiles the 'doctor' left her at the main entrance to walk back to his office with something of a determined pace.

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"Hello, Commander?" He said urgently as the call was answered at the other end. "Yes, I've just seen her out. No, not good, Sir. I'm afraid she didn't by the bluff about his survival being a hoax; recognised the cover-up for what it was straight away, in fact. Our records show that Jones made a call to her just before he contacted the disused Torchwood facility in Battersea that day and during it he revealed that he had inside knowledge of the invasion, plus he warned her about the threat to his niece and nephew. So, of course, with her already knowing that he worked for the government in some capacity, well, let's just say, that, when confronted with even stranger news about her brother, it didn't take long for her to put two and two together.

His features winced at the reaction coming from the other end. "Well, she's agreeable, for now, to let the rest of her family believe that the report of his survival was a hoax," he put out by way of compensation for his boss. "But in my opinion getting her to sign the official act would be a complete waste of time. The woman appears to have no comprehension whatsoever of what the word secrecy represents; she's still insisting that her brother should be with his family in Cardiff …. and I don't need to tell you, Commander, of the complications which could arise if certain parties in that area were to get wind of his er ….. miraculous recovery, shall we say."

Nodding, he listened politely to his superior's take on the situation then sighed quietly before putting on his slimy head to agree. "Yes, I'm in total agreement with you, Sir, and I can only conclude myself that, somewhere along the line, the patient's relatives are bound to cause us a problem. It's just a shame that we didn't manage to contain the situation before that ghastly reporter became involved, although I suppose we should count ourselves lucky that it didn't make the nationals." Waiting once again for the other man to have his say, he listened intently then gave his usual nod. "Yes, it's all in hand; there's since been a retraction and an apology made by the local paper, and after a little coercion, plus the serious threat of them being bundled off in straightjackets to spend the rest of their time in an institution, the two members of hospital staff have sensibly announced that it was all part of a prank played for the benefit of a colleague."

Lifting the lid of an ornate box he took a cigar from it and continuing to listen intently, he commenced with the laborious efforts of trying to light the thing. "Well, I'm pleased to be able to tell you that as far as media coverage is concerned, the whole affair appears to be dying a death ….. if you'll excuse the pun." He chuckled, then after sucking in his cheeks he puffed out a hardly worth it waft of blue smoke. "No, Sir, as far as I'm aware, aside from that one John Doe report by that journalist friend of our two hospital employees, there have been no personal details for our patient released to the public. Though things would have been so much easier if the idiot hadn't gone ahead and made contact with the next of kin." He muttered as an aside.

Nodding again, he listened intently before sighing. "Oh, I agree Sir, and those idiots should have been dismissed for passing on information as they did. But we can't run the risk upsetting them, plus, in the end they did manage to convince the hack that it was all a sick joke."

Starting to look fairly pleased with himself a smile creased his fat cheeks into several folds as he began to deliver the only real piece of good news that he had. "So, in conclusion, Sir, I think we can safely say that, aside from Rhiannon Davies herself, and, very possibly, her immediate family, we appear to be secure again."

He leaned sideways to pull open a drawer further down then removing an ashtray from it he tapped the end of his cigar onto it. "Yes, I'm inclined to agree with you, Sir, that's exactly the course of action that _I_ thought might be most appropriate. I'll contact the crematorium straight away to arrange the appropriate service."

Stretching further sideways to look down into the grounds, he watched on, satisfied, as a limousine pulled away with Rhiannon Davies tucked safely inside.

"Very well, Commander." He said, finishing off. "I'll contact you as soon as I have the details, and in the meantime I shall instigate the drawing up of the necessary paperwork and fake certificate, and then instruct the public relations department to issue the sister with the very sad news of her brother's failure to survive his unfortunate condition."

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( Approx nine months later … )

Location : Windsor, Berkshire, England.

Date : April …. 2010

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"They appear to be getting stronger every day."

Brushing her fringe away with the back of one wrist, Doctor Erin Maynard continued to stare, mesmerised by the fluctuating graphs in front of her. "It's almost as if his brain is re-setting itself, William." With a deeper frown forming and turning to her right, she addressed the tall man standing next to her in a more direct fashion. "These patterns?" She sighed, shaking her head at the screens again. "Have you ever seen anything like them before?"

Lips already pursed, the rather eccentric looking, yet quirkily handsome, colleague that she'd spent many a spare moment daydreaming over recently, winked quickly as he tapped his pencil against the side of his dark rimmed glasses. "Nope, Erin, can't say that I have, although, this _has_ always been an unusual case."

He turned away from the monitors with a smile. "But, having said that, I didn't get to become the outstandingly brilliant consultant that I am today by not being open-minded." Taking a step back and folding his arms expectantly, he grinned cheekily at her. "Any helpful suggestions waiting to flood out of that bottomless pit of medical knowledge, Doctor Maynard?" He teased. "What, exactly, do _you_ make of exhibit number one?"

"Oh, I do wish you wouldn't refer to him as if he's some sort of experiment …." she scowled, and beginning to frown again, she stepped up to the bed to gently brush a thumb over the back of their patient's hand. "He has a name, William, just like you and I, and I'm sure that underneath this quiet exterior of his, our Mr Jones, here, is just itching to get out of this bed and lay one on you."

The loud bellow echoed around the sparsely furnished private room. "Is that so?" He exclaimed, his genuine delight at the comment forcing him to double up with laughter. "Well, if you spot any signs of movement you will let me know before anyone else, won't you." He chuckled. "And just as an extra precaution I think that from now on I might wait for you in the next room."

Still chuckling away to himself, he lifted the clipboard from the end of the bed. After just one quick glance down at the notes he was looking straight back up again with a frown. "His details have been changed. Any ideas as to why he might suddenly have become Geraint Jones instead of Ianto?"

Obviously not happy about the situation either, with one brow lifting disdainfully, his date for the coming weekend wordlessly shrugged her shoulders at him.

"Up to their games again, are they?" He sighed in response, looking back down at the information with a shake of his head.

"All I can get out of anyone so far is that there was a mix up in admin when he came in." She sighed back at him. "All we're being allowed to know is that there was a simple mistake made with the name. Oh, and there are some extra instructions, if you'd care to look further down." She remembered, nodding for him to take a look for himself. "Apparently, the second he regains consciousness, we are to inform a certain doctor Grant, on that mobile number found, curiously enough, just below his name."

"Remind me again ….." Came the reply with a hint of amusement to it. "What exactly did he qualify in again? And anyway, why the urgency for somebody like Grant to know in the first place? I mean, even if our Mr Jones, here, does suddenly pull out of this, it's not as if he's going to be going anywhere in a hurry, is it?"

"Well, again, apparently ….." The doctor smiled back at him, raising her hands in readiness to wave the necessary speech marks in the air. "Our 'learned' colleague wishes to ask the patient a few important questions, which I can only assume will be relating to his miraculous feat of survival."

Deciding that, at that very moment, he really didn't want to be thinking about any of the questionable goings on happening outside of his medical facility, William Brand not so discreetly changed the subject. "How long has he been with us now?" He asked going back to the notes.

"He came in last July, so it'll be a year soon." She told him glancing almost affectionately over at their patient before looking back to find the consultant pawing his way through the paperwork with a frown. "So …. do you think we might be close to getting an answer, William? These new signs of activity have got to be a good sign, haven't they?"

Studying the monitors again before redirecting his gaze, a now soberly William Brand gave his answer. "For his sake, Erin, I really hope so. Because as more and more time passes, and with his activity levels increasing as rapidly as they are, if he doesn't pull out of this soon he's got more chance of losing out to a seizure than anything ….. and that would be a damn shame."

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( Approx. 14 months later … )

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Location : Windsor, Berkshire, England.

Date : June … 2011

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"Clear!"

As the upper body lifted from the table, and at least three other nursing assistants dashed into the room, the resident doctor and consultant standing on either side of the casualty shared a concerned look.

"Erin, are you quite sure it wasn't just an involuntary trigger? He has just crashed, after all." As he spoke, William Brand glanced along to the nurse taking charge of the transformer then nodded once at her before looking back to his wife.

"I'm telling you." She rushed out, her gaze alternating worriedly between her husband and their patient. "His eyes opened and something registered. Will, I'm not just saying this; I know for certain that when those eyes opened …. he saw me."

"Charging and …. Clear!" He shouted, taking her observations on board for a later moment.

As her husband's body wracked with the second effort, Erin Brand glanced up at the monitor then quickly back again. "William, I swear he came back. And for that one split second …. he saw me … I know he did." Becoming almost panic-stricken, and in a move which belied her usual show of professionalism, her eyes began to fill with tears. "We can't lose him now for God's sake!"

"I'll give it one more go." He told her before issuing the necessary instructions to the nurse next to him.

"Clear!" He warned again and the lifeless body beneath them jerked upward once more.

And with all of them in that room suddenly finding themselves holding onto that same, one small hope, nobody moved. Nobody even dared to breathe.

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Nobody, that is …

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Except Ianto Jones.

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tbc.

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**A/N : **I'd just like to thank everybody that's reviewed, followed and faved, so far …. Much appreciated.

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So …. just one more chapter to go … and I shall be back with it sometime after the spring bank holiday … ( ducks quickly to avoid low flying missiles. )

See you then …... bwb.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N :**

Firstly ….. …. apologies for the delay.

Secondly ….. … again, thank you for the response so far. I wasn't expecting this theme to be overly popular … so the reaction to it has been a very pleasant surprise.

Thirdly … ….. Jack and Ianto are not mine …. But poor Foxy was ( makes sad, pouty face )

And finally …. warning for suggestions of the shuffling off of this mortal coil by one of the main characters ….. plus you will also come across my twist on The House Of The Dead ….. which also has never been mine ….. if that makes sense. Shall I just get on with it? It really has been one of those weeks. ( insert big sigh here )

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Okay, final chapter …. It's a tad longer than the others …. oh, and I apologise in advance for …. well …. you'll see …

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No Substitute

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Chapter Five ….. The Re-born Mourner

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Location : Dowman Crescent, Richmond upon Thames, England.

Year : 2065

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With the storm still raging ferociously, the barking at the rear of number forty two was more noticeable now than ever, and understandably anxious himself, the resident of the property took first one, and then a second shaky step in the direction of the doorway opposite.

"My dog! I need to get out to her, she must be terrified. Oww, damn ….." He grumbled, coming to a stop to rub at one hip then still muttering away about the additional pain in his left knee, he tried to take a third step, cursed, and then gave up again.

A comforting hand wrapped itself around one bicep and bringing the pensioner to a definite halt the Captain shook his head at him. "Wait here. I'll let her in for you." He told him, thinking to give the arm in his grasp a reassuring squeeze. His main concern was that this older version of Ianto might start to become significantly more stressed than he already was, and he wasn't prepared to take any more chances on that happening.

"How do I get out to your backyard?" He asked, already making a move across the room.

A smile of gratitude forming, an age-wearied Ianto Jones nodded over in the direction that he'd just been headed for himself. "Through the kitchen," he instructed rather breathlessly. "You can get out to the garden via the door on the far side, but you'll need to deactivate the lock first; I think I might have left the device by the micro-oven, but everything happened so quickly, Captain, I'm sorry; I really can't be quite sure if I did or not." He apologised.

With a, "Don't worry, I'll make damn sure I find it," his rescuer quickly disappeared from sight and still with very little confidence in the reliability of his memory, the liberated hostage stared over to the vacant doorway to wait for what seemed a lifetime. No more than a minute later his fears were allayed and he smiled, delighted, as a collie sized mongrel raced into the room to cut an urgent, yet decidedly soggy, path in his direction.

Following on behind, and stopping to rest against the doorjamb with a thoughtful smile of his own; watching this 'real' version of Ianto Jones crouch down to stroke the animal's head, Jack Harkness blinked a couple of times over to dispel the swell of joyful tears that had already begun to impede his view. With a new sense of serenity befalling the room he was grateful for the break in tension and quickly allowed the calming moment to take him away from things for a while.

It was tempting to pretend that there were no other issues for him to deal with right now. Frustratingly, of course, there were many, but not one of them were that desperate that they couldn't wait just a little longer for both owner and pet to comfort each other properly. With Ianto still murmuring away, quickly becoming nothing more than a hazy outline crouching somewhere out in front of him, the Captain found himself alone; his thoughts becoming consumed by misgivings over his unusual set of circumstances.

He knew that, despite everything, he should be feeling elated in some way and, yes, there definitely was a certain element of bridled delight swirling itself into a tight ball somewhere deep inside of him … but right now guilty feelings, and a lifetime's worth of regret, were doing a grand job in keeping that show of joy right where it belonged.

He didn't deserve to be happy ... it was as simple as that. He didn't deserve to have Ianto either, and who said that he had him back again anyway? He didn't have the faintest idea where he was going to go next with this situation; it hadn't been resolved as far as he was concerned, far from it. There was still one almighty Ianto Jones sized problem for him to solve ….. but how was he supposed to solve a problem … when that problem wasn't even aware that it needed solving in the first place?

Not that that meant he was about to give up on things. He knew without doubt that his feelings for Ianto were just as intense as they'd ever been and, beyond that, he knew that he wanted to spend each and every moment of every single day that he had left with him …. he didn't care how old he'd become, or how infirm. He was still _'his'_ Ianto, and the man needed him now more than ever.

But what the hell was he supposed to do, when Ianto didn't feel the same way … didn't even remember him, for God's sake?

Of course, his own wants and emotions aside, he still had enough sense left to know that his next priority should be to check that Ianto was physically okay and then quickly get him as far away from his 'cell' as he possibly could.

It was just as well his manipulator hadn't gone far ….

His manipulator!

Damn ….. he couldn't use the thing, could he …

Oh, well wasn't that just typical!

_Now_, when he actually had a manipulator that he could show off with; he wouldn't be able to use the damn thing because he couldn't be certain how much damage a dose of molecular restructuring would cause to a body of Ianto's advanced age.

God that was disappointing. Almost every day since Ianto had been gone he'd daydreamed his way through the same scenario where, each time, he would take his young escort travelling via the vortex, to show him the sights; the galaxies and their planets.

Well, there was no chance of that happening now, was there?

Damn! And after all the trouble he'd gone to, just to get hold of another one in the first place!

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His mind began to wander.

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_Actually, thinking about it, hadn't he, many decades ago now, quite cleverly managed to procure two manipulators at the same time? _

_Yeah, that was it. It'd all come about after he'd blagged a ride on that mark seven Chula cruiser, and if he remembered correctly he'd been very lucky on that occasion not to bump into a different version of himself. _

_Although he hadn't actually been on board at that particular time, some of the crew had still recalled meeting him during a past/future joint mission with the Agency and, time-jump-confusing-conversations aside, the small fact that they'd had reason to remember him without actually wanting to kill him, had very nearly managed to brighten up his day. _

_Anyway, it'd been finding himself at the mercy of the Chula fleet officers and their pre-arranged mission schedules, which had seen him turn up in the first part of the fifty-second for his troubles, and this was where he'd hopped off to initiate a bartering session with a very early version of everybody's favourite scammer, Dorium. Only, he'd out-scammed the luminescent-blue, black-marketeer. He'd bartered for the two, almost brand new, time-pieces whilst offering, in exchange, the deeds for a vessel that had most definitely not been his to negotiate with in the first place._

_Of course, had he been rumbled at the table, Dorium would have had him stripped of both skin and flesh by his, illegally exported/imported, two pet Stigorax, … ….. ( just the mere mention of the name was enough to make Jack itch like mad; their fur always managed to bring him out in hives for a while ) …. …. but with him being cute enough to insist on inspecting the goods beforehand, he'd been able to simply vanish from the scene long before the real Captain of the ship could show up._

_He'd ended up back on Earth in the late twenty-twenties feeling highly pleased with himself; just a touch rebellious and for a while he'd amused himself by telling anyone who cared to ask, that his name was Han Solo. _

_And then, annoyingly, the two manipulators had become one._

_Okay, yes, it'd been his own stupid fault. Though in his defence, in having, admittedly, allowed himself to be cajoled by the voluptuous charms of the three women of ill-repute in the first place, all he'd really been hoping for that evening was that their attentions might help him to forget a few certain 'unhappy' memories for a while. _

_Anyway, as was his wont (when at some earlier stage in the proceedings having been forced to deal with the odd fatal gunshot wound or two), later that same night he'd come noisily back to life to find himself still in the whorehouse; still on his back, and not only did he have the unwanted addition of several shrinking bullet holes sitting in the middle of his chest, he was also trussed up like a turkey. _

_But most importantly of all … (the decision to worry about his dignity and dangly bits at a later date had already been taken) …. he'd been one manipulator short._

_Seemingly non-complicit themselves, the three women had kindly reminded him that, half way through their evening of innovative bedroom manoeuvres; along with a strangely attired gent who had not only been brandishing a pistol, but had also had a sword strapped to his waist, two uniformed guards had burst into the room professing a certain Captain Jack Harkness to be a traitor to the crown, a threat to the entire population of Earth, a self-obsessed freak …. and a narcissistic son of a bitch. _

_Ouch._

_Still lying there with his feet and hands tethered, he'd quickly recalled feeling the excruciating burst of pain in his chest plus the fact that he'd witnessed two red-caps doing a deal with Hart. And while the two-faced, backstabbing bastard had climbed onto the bed to remove the strap from his left wrist, the guards had stood there talking in terms of how many thousands of the King's Pound Sterling they'd be prepared to pay for information on how to transport themselves, along with the manipulator, back to the previous decade. _

_To his credit, his least favourite buccaneer had refused to pass on the information required and had, instead, taken them back to the correct time-line with his own device. _

_Luckily, not one of the three intruders had thought to check his trouser pockets, which, thankfully, had left him with still, the one means of transportation to use. And with the knowledge that his other strap was in the possession of Unit and, more importantly, that they didn't have a clue how to use the thing, he'd decided that for the time being he'd cheekily employ them as a temporary deposit box … Oh, and that he'd save Hart for a day when he could be more bothered with the fickle son of a bitch._

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And, so, with him still not having found a need to go retrieve the other one as yet, here he was now, four decades on, feeling just as peeved (but thankfully no longer prepared for Christmas dinner), and in possession of a vortex manipulator that actually worked … but with no safe means of utilising it.

Great …. Somebody, somewhere, really, really hated him …. this much was now obvious.

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His focus back in the room he began to concentrate, again, on the scene before him. Memories of a much younger Welshman taking care of a vastly different kind of creature began to flood his mind and with a fondness he hadn't experienced for years coming into play, he studied both owner and pet as they continued to interact with each other.

"She's lovely, what's her name?" He finally got around to asking; laughing gently as he witnessed a tongue whip out to lick at the end of one eighty-odd year old turned up nose.

As a mottle of black, white and grey began to dance around excitedly on the spot, from his vantage point over in the doorway, the impressed Captain could only conclude that she really was quite a pretty little thing. Her perky ears were tufted with a splash of bright white at each tip and as she turned back to look at him he noticed for the first time that her eyes were a bright amber.

"Myfanwy."

He was told by his aging archivist, who then smiled broadly at his dog as she turned back to lick happily away at his fingers.

"Myf …?"

His heart clenching painfully in his chest, still over in that doorway, suddenly the younger looking man was finding it almost impossible to breathe.

"I ….. Oh …..I mean, yeah …. unusual name. What made you call her that?" He asked shakily. _Okay, so it seemed that there was definitely at least one memory in there trying to find a way through … … and trust it to be that one. _

Carrying on in ignorant bliss, "Myfanwy? Well … it's Welsh," Ianto was telling him, "like myself, obviously. But other than that I'm afraid I haven't got the faintest."

Groaning he began to straighten on the spot. "Ever since the day I moved in, every single pet they've allowed me to have has been saddled with that same bloody name. Cats; dogs. A mouse …. oh, _and_ a couple of rabbits. There was even a parakeet at one time, if I remember correctly." He laughed, the creases already sitting at the corners of his eyes becoming deeper, but not so deep as to detract from the fact that, despite his age, he was still a very handsome man. "No matter what they were, they all had the same name. It just seemed to fit them all, I suppose." He concluded, smiling warmly down at his dog before giving in and stooping awkwardly to stroke her again.

Despite the continuing happiness of the scene, the Captain's head was rapidly becoming a mess. He'd failed Ianto. At the second time of asking, unforgivably, he'd managed to let the dearest of all his lovers, down …. all over again.

What the hell had he been playing at for the past fifty years? Why the hell had it taken the jealous inquisitiveness of a goddamned Seran to bring this moment about? Why hadn't he ever bothered to do any research of his own? Why, in all this time, hadn't it occurred to him, even just the once, to do something as simple as check through a few secreted files on the off-chance that he might spot something of importance?

He had absolutely no excuses. After all, it wasn't as if he'd managed to forget every last detail of the only man he'd ever truly wanted to share his heart with; Ianto had been on his mind constantly, in every dream, both waking and sleeping, since that horrible day back in two thousand and nine.

Admittedly with him nowadays not managing to nod off for more than twenty minutes at a time, those dreams usually came in the form of a few hazy moments of incredibly happy memories.

But, God, to start with hadn't there been the most chillingly vivid, truly horrific, ones?

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_The first nightmare he could ever recall having, had always begun with him walking out through the glass frontage of Thames House feeling convinced that both he and Ianto had made it out of there alive. But on every single occasion he would turn back to find Ianto with his skin blistering and with blood pouring from his eyes. That soul wrenching image had made itself known to him for weeks and weeks on end, just following him, hauntingly, from one dream to the next._

_Occurring a lot more frequently than the first, in his second nightmare there had then been the repeat performance of him being forced to watch a casket being lowered into the ground; with it seeming that only 'he' could hear the desperate shouting and banging coming from the inside of it. From this point on he would be pleading with the other mourners to help him, but all they would ever do was hold him back, make him watch until the earth had been shovelled back in to the hole and the cries of his frantic lover had been smothered. _

_In another, coming some time later, he'd even killed Ianto himself. The young man would spend most of the dream clinging on to him, declaring his feelings and begging for his life to be spared. But each time he would ignore Ianto, his grip around the Welshman's throat would only tighten all the more and then he'd squeeze and squeeze until the very last spark of life in those beautiful eyes had died. At this point the sobbing would start, and with it feeling as if the whole thing were real, devastated by what he'd done, he'd spend the rest of the nightmarish episode pleading with his lover's still and lifeless body for forgiveness._

_On those other, more dark occasions; when his guilt in the real world had finally become too much and he'd taken the coward's way out to escape his pain … rather than just the blackness, the 'nothingness' that he'd always been used to experiencing when taking his own life, for a while he'd found a nightmare waiting there for him, beyond death, as well. And, again, with this one also, it would always be the same scenario, repeated over and over again. _

_He'd be travelling through the Welsh countryside in a rush to get to his destination, and, finally, he'd find himself inside a public house. On each occasion Ianto would be waiting there for him and with there being a seance conducted on the premises it would eventually be made clear that Ianto was already dead and that he was there in spirit form. The pair of them would be offered the opportunity to be together again, on the mortal plane. But after a painful exchange of words and being reminded of his boss's selfishness, Ianto would make it clear that he no longer held any faith in him. _

_Every time it would be the same; he'd encourage the young man to step outside, to take that chance to be with him again, but after initially raising his hopes; at the very end of every dream, Ianto would always refuse to leave the crumbling building. _

_Each time he'd come back to life (and out of that dream) faced with the knowledge that, even though he'd finally declared his feelings for him, and had begged the young man to be a part of his life again, rather than stay with him, Ianto had chosen to be destroyed, along with the rift. _

_And each time it had left him feeling a little more broken than ever before; completely and utterly devastated._

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Many, many years had passed since he'd last experienced that particular dream, but to this day he could still remember the pain of having his heart broken over and over again. The nightmare had done its job; had left its mark, and it would always serve as a reminder that, no matter how sorry he managed to feel for himself, he would only ever have himself to blame where Ianto was concerned … and that he really didn't deserve to be loved by anybody ….. let alone by him.

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Still, despite the constant feelings of self-loathing and a general lack of faith in Mistress Fate herself, here they were, back together; he'd actually managed to find him again … his true love …. his 'raison d'etre'. And there was definitely nothing ghost-like about this Ianto. Oh no, he was the real deal …..absolutely no question.

So why did it still feel as if he were stuck in the middle of a living nightmare?

And only making matters worse, he _still_ had that same goddamned question hanging over him: When he'd had not just his dreams, but his every waking hour interrupted by thoughts of Ianto, for his own peace of mind even, why the _hell_ hadn't he done a little searching through some old records?

Pleasingly, the answer was swift in arriving and brought with it just a small amount of self-forgiveness.

Search for Ianto? Why would he ever have felt the need to? He'd seen him die in his arms, had heard his last words; had felt his last breath, warm and gentle.

And afterward, hadn't he come back to life on that floor to find Ianto lying there with Gwen kneeling over his body, her heart slowly breaking as they'd then, both, stared down at his pale, white …

Blinking quickly, he forced the memory aside. That moment had always been far too painful a one for him to allow back inside.

"What happened to you, Mr Jones?" He asked, hoping to distract himself from those destructive memories more than anything. "And what did you mean when you said you were _allowed_ to have pets? Are we talking some sort of a medical condition here?"

Greying brows swept inward to collide rather endearingly in the middle. "You're not from the facility …. are you …."

Straight away the confusion was evident.

"Facility?"

Going by the facial reaction alone, just that one word had been enough to send the Captain's blood pressure coursing faster through his veins.

"Okay," he carried on, hoping that his tone was still light and non-threatening. "Now, this is all probably going to seem a little callous, given our situation," for a brief second he glanced down at the lifeless form on the floor then continued, "but, given what's happened here tonight, and for your own safety more than anything, it's really important that you agree to answer a few questions for me, and if it's okay with you I'd like to start with that lock on your front door, because a Vectra double beam reverse pulse is way over the top for just your average two bed slice of suburbia, don't you think?"

He waited for a reaction, but the aged brain of the man opposite showed no signs of grasping what he was getting at.

"And, you know, now thinking about it," he sang curiously; brows dancing, "the walls out in that tiny backyard of yours do seem unusually high. And do your windows open?" He added quickly as the horrifying thought that they might not flashed into his mind.

"Yes, of course they do." He was informed almost mockingly. "Well, just a little anyway. You know, the usual amount; just enough to allow some fresh air in."

Finishing his sentence slowly, the pensioner began to stare apprehensively at the undisciplined military fellow currently commandeering his property. "And, so …. if you're not one of my medical team, Captain ….. who, exactly, are you?"

Jack Harkness very nearly gave that smile of old; lack of use being the major contributing factor to it not quite managing to form fully as the attempt was made.

"Your knight in shining armour, Mr Jones." He seemed to have no trouble in saying. "But before I can do anything heroic I'm afraid I'm going to need you to answer a few more questions ….. for instance, why is it essential that you have a med team at the ready? And, far more importantly ….. just _'why'_ the _'hell'_ are you being kept a _'prisoner'_ in your own _'goddamned'_ home?!"

With regards to the real truth of the situation, he already had some pretty conclusive thoughts of his own going on, in fact, all he was really hoping to hear for now, was what Ianto's take on things might be.

"I was involved in an accident." The Welshman was already telling him in a quiet voice, seeming almost ashamed of the fact.

Jack Harkness, self-assumed defender of the Earth, protector of every single living creature living upon it; especially those that he loved beyond measure, pursed his lips tightly together. "Go on ….." He said testily, struggling to keep a cap on one volcanic flow of boiling anger.

Thankfully, the elderly Ianto didn't seem to have noticed his growing frustration.

"I don't remember anything of the incident myself," he started to explain, "but apparently in two thousand and nine, I would have been in my mid-twenties at the time, there was an explosion at the factory where I was employed as a technician. I survived, as you can see, but I was the only survivor, and even then my internal system had been severely damaged by whatever chemicals were being tested on the premises."

"Okay … so what happened to you?"

The desire to scream with frustration was pushed aside. This story had obviously been carefully scripted for Ianto's benefit …. and becoming only more and more aware of the poor guy's life of imprisonment here, the real irony of it all seemed to be that, for years, he'd effectively been keeping himself locked away as well … his only company over that time being nothing more than a poor substitute ….. while the real love of his life had been right here; locked up only a few miles away.

"My injuries," continued the older man, "the contusions mainly, were consistent with my body having come into contact with something solid; the initial theory being that the blast threw me clear of the centre of the explosion, and, of course, the crack I was left with in my skull would go a long way to explaining the bouts of amnesia that I've been suffering from ever since."

Frowning thunderously; arms folded tightly together, Jack Harkness was making no secret of the sense of displeasure he was currently experiencing. This was like listening to a goddamned automaton quoting from an imprinted memory.

"And you've seen the x-rays of this crack in your skull, have you?" He asked sharply … then tried his best not to react inappropriately to the responding eye-roll.

"No, young man, of course I haven't. Surely even _you_ know that patients are not allowed access to that sort of thing …. It would be far too distressing for them."

The Captain's nostrils flared.

"I came out of the coma," continued 'Geraint' Jones, choosing to deliberately ignore the continuing show of facial contortions from the man opposite.

"Coma?"

"Yes, Captain, you heard me right; I said ….. '_coma'_."

Not seeing, himself, the need for the newly surprised look appearing across the way, the elderly gent paused for a moment then gave a shrug. "Anyway, if you could allow me to finish? From what I can gather, I eventually came out of the '_coma_' in June two thousand and eleven and I was then cared for at the facility."

The younger man finally lost his cool. "Okay; I've heard enough. You mentioned this facility before. What facility? Where is it? Who runs the place?" He asked hurriedly, his voice rising up a level; his arms fighting with the sleeves of his coat as they tried awkwardly to knit themselves onto his middle again.

The elderly Ianto Jones looked sternly across the room at him. "Captain, who _are_ you exactly? Because I'm not sure I should be sharing any of this information with you."

Jack Harkness laughed at the irony of it all. "Trust me, I'm one of the good guys, and I'm here to help." He reassured, gesturing down to the dead creature on the floor by way of an example. It was at this point that he remembered the thing was still wearing his manipulator and after crouching down to retrieve it he then reached further over to reclaim his trusty Webley. "Did it hurt you at all, the alien?" He asked, standing again.

"Not really …" the older man mused, already thinking to run through those first moments again in his head himself, "when it first appeared; aiming a gun at me, I naturally assumed that the creature was going to just shoot me and take what it wanted. But instead the damned thing just stood there asking me one question after another. Much like yourself." He inserted with a wry smile. "It was only when it realised that I wasn't going to give it the answers that it wanted, that it fired off a couple of shots to scare me. Bloody well did the job, too." He remembered with something of a self-admonishing laugh.

"What did it want to know?" The Captain asked, nervous and curious at the same time; starting to feel strangely bereaved as he continued to gaze down at his companion of nearly three decades.

"Same set of questions over and over," he was informed, "and it kept referring to somebody called Jack."

The Captain waited for the penny to drop.

The expected question came almost straight away.

"Wait ….. You said your name was Jack, didn't you? You're Jack! That Jack? The same Jack? But what made it think I'd know anything about you? I don't know you ….. do I?" Becoming agitated, the confused pensioner forced one shaking hand back through his hair.

"Jack Harkness." The man himself said softly, not bothering to hold out his hand this time; his disappointment palpable as he'd found it necessary to introduce himself all over again. "And, yes, I'm the very same Jack." He nodded sadly.

Hoping to avoid any further awkward questions he adopted his famous 'Okay, I'm in charge here' pose. "Anyway, Mr Jones ….. how about we get back to _your_ story? And I hope you can see, now, that it's not me that's the enemy, here."

Seeming a little more placated than before, the elderly Welshman looked down at the frightening creature that this Captain Jack had earlier saved him from and considered properly who, or what, had been more of a threat to him so far.

"Hmmm … okay." He conceded with a sigh. "Well, in answer to your question about the facility, I was sedated the morning that they transferred me to the respite home; you know, to recuperate , so I'm afraid I never did get to see where I'd been staying up until that point. Actually, it's quite frustrating," he admitted. "All these years have passed and I still don't have a clue where I was staying for that period of my life. But, anyway, about thirty years ago I was brought here and although they say I've now stabilised, apparently whatever got into my system that day could still be harmful to others, so I'm not allowed to leave the property just in case. It's just as well I have all of my supplies brought to me by special delivery, because I'd starve if not." He laughed as the thought suddenly occurred to him.

"You don't get to leave the property? Not at all? Not even to take a walk or something?"

"No, Captain, I just told you; I may pose a health threat to other members of the public."

"Well, do you '_feel'_ ill, at all?"

His legs already akimbo, and frustrated to the point where he could quite happily fill each member of this so called medical team with lead; head tipping to one side with his query, the Captain seemed to be struggling to conceal just how angry the unfolding saga was making him.

"Not ill in that sense, no. But I still get sedated and taken away for tests every now and then. They're the worst part." 'Geraint' Jones told him, his voice becoming subdued; going quiet again. "Most times it's just for routine monitoring and coming back round from that side of things I can handle. But on many an occasion I've woken up, back here in my bed, feeling like I've been run over by a truck. Plus I've lost count of the number of times I've found myself covered in scars with not the first clue how they might've gotten there. Thankfully, though, as I get older that sort of thing doesn't seem to happen so much."

He finished his spiel still looking weary, but with a certain amount of relief sitting there.

Staring down at the floor the Captain forced a shuddering but silent breath out through his nose. It was becoming harder and harder to keep the exasperating mixture of emotions he was starting to feel from making themselves known.

Misreading his rescuer's expression; assuming that the inquisitive young man was now annoyed with him, Geraint Jones stared challengingly at him. "Captain Harkness," he started firmly, folding his own arms defensively in front of him. "Why am I telling you all of this? I've never discussed these details with anyone in my life before. So why am I feeling the need to share everything with you now?"

"I wonder why they chose Richmond?" The Captain mused out loud; genuinely interested in the fact, but mostly in avoidance of the last question.

"Who are _'they'_? And where, exactly, is _Richmond?" _The pensioner asked, finding the young man's show of deliberate evasiveness irritating.

"Oh, come ohhhhn. Please tell me you at least know where you've been living for the past thirty years." Eyes widening in disbelief, the younger of the two men staggered back a step in amazement.

"I don't understand what you mean, Captain Harkness? When you say ….. where I've been living ….. are you referring to this Richmond place that you just mentioned? Because I can assure you that I've never heard of it."

The elderly Ianto shrugged over as he waited for the other man to regain his balance. "All I can tell you is that this property is what they refer to as being the safe house."

Incredulous at the remark, the Captain failed to contain the bluster.

"Hey, trust me on this; this is not what most people would consider to be a safe house. Surely you must have heard the term used on the news broadcasts before now? You must have seen programmes about that sort of thing on t.v. at some stage over the years. What about the history channels?" He thundered on with a blank look being his only prize.

"What about the satellite news links?" He finally asked with an exasperated sigh, only just thinking to look around the room for a screen.

"What's a satellite news link?"

"Your terminal!" The Captain barked, still confused as he continued to scour the room for one. "Where's your sat terminal?" Patience fading acceptably quickly he studied the vacant look he was still being given with a growing sense of disbelief. "You know …. the screen you watch the news reports on?"

"Oh, I have a screen over there." He was told in an off-handed fashion. "And when it's time … they slide that section of the wall over to one side so that they can show me the clips."

Wondering how the fact hadn't occurred to him until now, a despairing 'Jack' sent a resigned breath over to his poor, deluded, hidden away from the real world; ignorant through no fault of his own …. 'Ianto'.

"You've haven't seen a news report since the day you were brought here, have you …" He sighed sadly.

"Don't be ridiculous, of course I have!"

Dismissing the claim as preposterous, 'Geraint' Jones was back with a wheeze, his cheeks flushing as the long, drawn out breath finally became a cough.

"In fact, I can tell you for certain, Captain Harkness, that right now a huge office block is being erected in a place called Canary Wharf … apparently that's in somewhere called London." He added proudly, his breath regained. "Oh and there's also a big complex being designed for recreational purposes. I believe that's going to be built in somewhere called Cardiff. Have you heard of Cardiff, Captain? I seem to remember somebody mentioning that it's not far from where I was born."

"Yeah … I've heard of it."

Voice quiet, the man opposite swallowed over yet another new knot of grief. How many times had Ianto been shown these reports, he wondered. The old news items were obviously being used as triggers; being fed to him after each of their medical tests to gauge the reliability of the strength of Retcon they were using on him.

They obviously hadn't read the Torchwood reports on long-term usage of the drug, that much was clear …. or more probably, at this late stage, they just didn't care anymore. Of course, in relation to Ianto's reaction itself, it could easily be that him not having gone psycho after all this time, was directly related to how he'd managed to survive that attack by the 456 in the first place.

"So you never get to choose what you watch." He concluded as his, once, beyond clever archivist's enforced lack of knowledge sent another wave of guilt wracking through him; this whole unacceptable mess was his fault and nobody else's, after all.

"Of course not …." Ianto scoffed back at him, suggesting that it might be the man opposite him who was the misinformed one about everything. "When something is ready to be seen, the screen will appear and I am able to watch it. It's a very clever system, you know." He added brightly, thinking he was showing this young whippersnapper a thing or two.

A half smile in place for the old man's sake, the Captain began to look around the room again.

"Now what are you looking for?" Came the obvious question.

"Surveillance cameras." He told him, matter of fact, and continued to study the walls and ceiling lights.

"Haven't had those in here for a long time." Admitted the reclusive resident, sounding genuinely relieved. "They needed them initially to keep an eye on my condition, you know, in case I experienced any side effects from the medication or the chemicals left inside me …though, I have to say ….." He added in a conspiring fashion. "I did wonder if, at one point, they were there for my protection."

"Really?"

His Captaining instincts returning and his brows lifting accordingly, Jack Harkness took a step closer. "And why was that?"

"Well, many years ago now, I overheard two of my med team talking in the kitchen. They were discussing the possibilities of somebody they'd nicknamed Superfreak coming to rescue me. They did start to laugh afterwards, but I still got the impression that they were quite concerned" He gave a quick shrug. "They couldn't have been that serious though, because a few years later the cameras were taken away." His forehead concertinering into deep furrows, he hunched his shoulders in deliberation. "Unless, of course, by that time they'd thought that the threat from this Superfreak person had passed. I've often wondered if he really existed ….." He added quietly, smiling absently to himself.

As the sharpest knife in the box pierced the centre of his heart then twisted accusingly, the guilty party winced. Whoever it was that had been holding Ianto prisoner, they had actually been expecting him to pay them a visit, but, letting the Welshman down yet again, even with him being just a few miles away, the great Jack Harkness still hadn't been able to oblige.

"Do you think you'd recognise the members of your team who said those things?" He asked; his latest compulsion to curl up into a ball and burst into tears, very nearly winning through.

The pensioner studied the man opposite and frowned. The remark had prompted him to recall the fact that this Captain wasn't actually one of his team and he was now beginning to curse his inability to hold on to his tongue. "I think that's enough questions for now … and although I'm more than grateful for your assistance, here, tonight, Captain, I think it might be for the best if you were to leave right away." He said as firmly as he could.

That was it.

Jack Harkness and his safeguards finally crumpled.

"Please, Ianto, don't push me away." He choked out before the words had had a chance to register.

Was the unthinkable about to happen? No, he couldn't let it.

Both unable, and unwilling, to prevent himself from doing so, he took one step closer to his love. "Please don't make me leave, not like this …. not now that I've found you again."

Lifting a hand he placed it lightly around one aged arm and ignoring the slight flinch that happened as a result, he began to stroke his fingers soothingly up and down. "Ianto, please believe me, I just want to help you, you have to trust me; I can get you away from this place."

Beneath his palm he felt the first sign of a tremor appearing. "You're starting to shake; that'll be the shock factor finally hitting home. Are you gonna be okay? Please let me help you." He begged; his voice nothing like as confident as it had been when he'd first arrived.

Studying the hand brushing gently over his arm, the show of confusion on the older man's face was deepening. "You speak as if you already know me, but, I'm sorry, you must be mistaking me for somebody else ….. because my name isn't Ianto." He said sounding less than confident himself. "Have we met before?" Was all he got around to asking before the shaking finally became so bad that neither of them could ignore it.

"Yes." The Captain nodded slowly, tears brimming; filling his eyes and threatening to fall. He squeezed a little harder onto the old gent's arm. "The shaking's getting worse …" He said, sounding concerned. "A shock to the system like this isn't good at any age, so c'mon let's get you over to that sofa over there; the least I should be doing right now is helping you to sit down."

As he nudged insistently for him to take a step in the right direction, the pensioner held his position to study the young man. What he found, along with a show of genuine distress for himself, was an emotion-filled anxiousness that had its true origins buried far too deeply for him to get a look at.

"I'm fine right here, son." He immediately thought to reassure with; smiling at the young Captain as he felt himself becoming strangely concerned about him also. "There's no need to worry about me; strong as an ox." He laughed with a wheeze before thinking to add. "Apart from the two attacks last year, of course."

"Attacks?" The head, having only just dropped, was lifted abruptly again. "You mean heart attacks?"

"Yes, I'm afraid the old angina finally gave way to the real thing." The pensioner smiled, not seeming overly perturbed by the fact himself.

"But …. you live here on your own. You're all alone."

"Gotta go sometime." Came the bitter laugh. "Besides, I have a panic button; it links me through to my med team. If the roads are clear they can get here pretty quickly. Wouldn't rate their chances in this weather, though." He added sagely.

"Oh, well that's good."

_Good? What the hell was he doing now … saying things just for the sake of it? This wasn't fucking good at all. Ianto, regardless of the status of his health, had been locked away, all on his own, in this goddamned house for the last thirty years! That wasn't good whichever way you looked at it._

"What about your family? Couldn't they have helped out with the situation?" He asked as calmly as he could, then wondered belatedly if, with his current mind-set, he might just have been looking for somebody else to blame.

"Ahhh …" The Welshman nodded, finally giving a smile of victory. "So, my suspicions were right; you really don't know anything about me, do you. You see, if you really did have something to do with the facility then you'd already have known that I was an only child, and that my mother died giving birth to me. My father died shortly after her …. of a heart attack, would you believe." He laughed with a touch of irony coming through.

"But … your sister …..?"

"I just told you Captain, I was an only child. There were no siblings."

"So where were you born?" ... ...… _Don't get angry._

"In a little village in Wales …"

"Really? What's it called then ….?" … ... ... _You're starting to sound irritated ….. take it back a step, Jack._

"I …. I'm not sure. I mean, I'm sure I've been told what it is in the past, but for some reason, I'm never able to remember it."

As if dealing with a pounding headache, the fingers of one hand pressed hard onto the Welshman's forehead then splayed across it. "But anyway, I believe I already mentioned that it's near somewhere called Cardiff, didn't I?"

Knowing for a fact that the Ianto Jones that he knew had been born in one of the more urban suburbs of Cardiff itself, Jack Harkness could only draw one conclusion from what he was being told.

"They didn't just eliminate your association with me, did they," he sighed, sadly. "The bastards pulled the whole works on you. And I'm so, so sorry."

As every wall he'd ever built came crashing down around him, a sudden wave of dizziness threatened to take him off his feet.

_What the hell had they done? What the hell had 'he' done? Why hadn't he just stayed on this goddamned planet and kept an eye on what was going on? He'd been told there'd been a funeral. Had there been one after all? And what reason had Ianto's family been given for his 'death' if there had? _

Hoping to hide both his guilt and confusion, he forced a smile and began to study Ianto's face.

_How had he not realised straight away that those lines etched so deeply at the edge of each eye, were from him experiencing nothing but years of ill-treatment; year upon year of being abused …. and feeling so much pain?_

And it was all his fault.

Ianto had been suffering like this because of him. Those bastards had not only been testing the resilience of Retcon, they'd also been trying to figure out if his survival was related to his _own_ inability to stay dead. They'd been hoping to find out _his_ secret via Ianto ….. and being deemed guilty by association ….. Ianto had spent almost all of his adult life paying the consequences. He'd been tested on ….. like a lab rat.

And it was all his fault.

As his chest began to constrict a huge surge of pain took his breath away. He fought to control the worsening anxiety but there was nothing he could do. Ianto had suffered alone for all these years because of him. He'd been so close by … he should have known ….. he should have helped him.

He looked up to find that the man he'd loved, lost and then found again was looking on with a wary show of concern. He managed to push his anxious feelings to one side and tried a smile.

It didn't work.

"Are you going to tell me what's going on here?" Asked one confused Welshman; seeing the fake show of joy for what it really was straight away.

They were both distracted by the dog at his side. Until now, she'd been sitting there very quietly, leaning contentedly against one leg. But now she was growling … very consistently ….. and very loudly.

"Hey, girl …." The Captain sighed, controlling himself enough to be able to soothe her.

Sensing that it might be a lot easier for himself, rather than Ianto, to crouch down right now, he did so and began to pet the animal. Nuzzling a cheek against her face he followed her gaze. Her eyes were fixed, unmoving, on the alien. He tickled her behind the ears. "Hey, it's okay, he can't hurt you anymore." He said softly.

After one more growl and an agitated yap, she left his side to dance her way back a few feet.

Recognising the cowering reaction for what it represented; the bigger picture becoming clearer all the time, he allowed her to go sit fearfully in the far corner then rose to his feet to watch the coming show.

Holding onto his breath, he was smiling just ever so slightly as the arc of light appeared and began to glow above the creature's lifeless body.

Next to him the Welshman went rigid. "What the ….?"

Reaching over to grasp firmly onto one arm in reassurance, "It's okay … just ….. don't move; I think I know what's happening here. Its life-light has faded and the connection has been broken so, my guess is, Foxy's being taken back home." He quickly explained in hushed tones.

The two men and the canine, still growling away at a distance, watched on intently as the corpse began to dematerialise in front of them. After just a few seconds it seemed to have completely vanished but, making them all jump where they stood, it suddenly reappeared. Only this time it looked very different and for just a split second the pensioner saw a younger version of himself staring right back at him.

Then the vision was gone.

"That was me!" He gasped, his voice now shaking as much as his limbs were. "That was me when I was younger!"

Becoming increasingly more panicked; "Is that what I am, then?" he asked, now confused as well as terrified, "One of those? Is that the real reason for me being locked away for all these years? Is that why you're here tonight, Captain ….. to kill me as well?"

As he clutched in desperation at his chest and started to fall, the young Captain caught the elderly Ianto Jones in his arms.

"Oh no ….." His grip around him awkward and straining to hold on to him securely, he slowly lowered him to the floor.

"Ianto? Ianto!" Fear, panic; dread etching their way across his features he began to feel around the body, grasping at handfuls of clothing, squeezing each pocket as he found it. "Where's your goddamned panic button!"

"Geraint …." Came the correction before anything else, then the word "Table …." was strained out breathlessly as extra information.

Already following the trajectory of the pointing digit, Jack Harkness was starting to lose his cool. "What the hell is it doing over here?!" He yelled as he pressed it. "You're supposed to keep this with you at all times, Ianto! What's the point in having it if …"

"Captain … if you're going to insist on nagging me, the least you could do is get my bloody name right!" The pensioner interrupted, then grunted as another wave of pain engulfed his chest.

Rushing over to grab a cushion from the couch, the younger man lifted his lover's head before gently lowering it again. "Stay with me, Ianto." He begged, totally unwilling to use anything other than the man's true name. "I'm so sorry; this is all my fault."

The first of what would instantly become many tears, slipped from one eye to trace a path downward.

He ignored it.

He felt so helpless, so guilty for not having seen this moment coming sooner and devastated that he was being made to watch this wonderful man suffer all over again. To take him anywhere else right now would only put an extra strain on his heart and there was a high chance that travelling through the vortex in Ianto's condition would kill him anyway, so he knew that the most he could hope for right now was that this so-called med team might respond to the alarm as quickly as Ianto seemed to think they might.

And then the obvious occurred to him.

Who, exactly, were these characters? Would they know who he was? And what would they make of the fact that their 'Superfreak' was already in possession of their captive?

The man of the moment opened his eyes to stare upward, confused. "Captain? I feel as if there's something very important that I should be telling you ….. but I don't know what it is."

His face creasing with a pain he thought he'd never feel again, "Don't … just save your breath." The younger man told him, his voice fading to a whisper as his living nightmare continued.

Letting out a soft breath, the Welshman closed his eyes.

"No, no, no. Come on, Ianto. Come on, please ….. Ianto? Hey, c'mon, look at me …please?"

Jack Harkness, with everything that he represented finally taking its revenge on him, began to tremble. The tremor worsened and as his body began to shake violently he, in turn, shook the man in his arms. "Ianto! Ianto? Damn you, Ianto Jones … why couldn't you have just remembered me …. just for a second … ... Ianto!"

As Myfanwy let out a distressed howl beside him he pulled away a little to stare down at the lifeless features of his love. "Not again … no ….. please ….. not again."

Lowering the limp body to the floor; kissing those soft warm lips just the once, he watched the Welshman's faithful companion edge closer to rest her head on her master's chest.

Face contorting with both anger and pain he pushed himself up onto his feet and, arms out to the side; palms upward, he began to shout loudly up to the heavens.

"WHY? Why do you keep doing this to me? Haven't I suffered enough, damn you? Why give him back to me and then take him away again?"

"FUCK!"

Shoulders hunching, his hands came up to cover his face then, "FUCK!" he shouted again at the Gods; the middle finger from one hand aiming up in their direction also.

"FUCK YOU!"

"BASTARDS!"

"….. bastards …"

Head down, he was sobbing again.

Unflinching, Myfanwy raised her eyes to gaze with an almost understanding show of saddened amber, and as the human dropped back down to his knees she obediently moved back a little without being asked.

Dragging 'Ianto' back into his hold, 'Jack' began to rock him gently, soothingly; began murmuring softly to him about wishes being granted, about dreams coming true ….. about ….. love.

Pressing noisy kisses onto soft waves of grey, he was still whispering; still rocking the man in his arms gently to and fro.

The seconds passing were dragging slowly; more than fifty years' worth of memories were streaming down his face. As he looked up, each new tear dispersed indistinguishably into the wash of salty water already covering both cheeks.

Forcing a smile for her, he reached across to gently stroke the little dog's head. "I'm sorry girl; you don't deserve this any more than I do."

She gave a soft and sad whimper.

He looked away; sobbing louder.

"No ….." ...

Firm … angry …. adamant ...

He was on his feet again.

"You bastards ….."

He raised his head, rocking it from side to side in a negative. "Not again …. No ... no way ...…. you are NOT taking him away from me _again_."

"DAMN YOU!"

Myfanwy howled loud and long, echoing his sentiments in the only way she knew how.

"You are NOT doing this. YOU HEAR?!" Flattened fingers were dragged across each cheek. Salty snot was sniffed up noisily. Twice.

"This time Ianto wins …. And _'I'_ win!"

"Right … Myfanwy?" He stared down commandingly at the dog; the sudden croakiness to his voice prompting him to clear his throat before carrying on. "This is how it's gonna work, okay?" He was already tapping away at his manipulator. "We're gonna break in to …. er, no, okay, scratch that …" He interrupted with a sad laugh before correcting himself. "_I'm_ gonna break in to the facility ….."

Twitching his nose to one side and sniffing again, he broke into his big 'plan of attack' spiel to study the current readings on his wrist-strap. After pressing down on to a couple more buttons he was good to continue.

"May, two thousand eleven, should do it." He muttered, distracted for a moment as he ran the details over in his head again. "I think I'm gonna do me a little digging first …." he told the intrigued looking canine. "Y'know, find out what those bastards were playing at back then. Then as soon as Ianto comes out of that coma I'm gonna get him out of there …. Before they can get their disgusting stinking hands on him and pump him full of FUCKING RETCON!"

He knelt down beside the peaceful body of his love and smiled fondly. He didn't resemble the Ianto he remembered from all those years ago ….. but even with a face full of lines he was still so handsome.

"You won't remember any of this my gorgeous Welshman …" he whispered, kissing one cheek with a gentleness he'd never used before. "But I promise you, Ianto, you're gonna see me again real soon, and this time we're gonna go somewhere that nobody can find us."

With fresh tears spilling he kissed those familiar lips, then scooping the distressed dog towards him and clutching her under one arm, he forced himself to leave Ianto's side.

As he heard a vehicle pull up outside its flashing blue light began to shine through the curtains at him. He gazed down at this Ianto Jones for one final time then activated his wristband.

"Come on, girl," he smiled; nuzzling his nose onto one ear in the hope that it might distract her from the swirling orange glow. "Let's go see if we can't get ourselves a second chance."

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TWTWTWTWTWTWTWTWTWTWTWTWTWTWTWTWTWTWTWTWTWTW

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Thanks for reading ….. bwb.

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**A/N : **BTW ….In case any of you were wondering …. Yes, I do realise that the radio play 'House of the Dead' wasn't a nightmare in canon … But the fact that Ianto was still alive here, necessitated its being one for the benefit of my story.

Also …. ( not to be confused with the similar sounding Sycorax ) The Stigorax were a species of furry, ravenously carnivorous, rat-like creatures and were associated mainly with the seventh Doctor.

My apologies if some of you were hoping to see a little more of Ianto ….. but this story was always meant to be about Jack … and about just how deeply his love (and need) for a certain Welshman called Ianto Jones, really did run.

Anyway ….. hope you all enjoyed my take on things …..

Cheers ….. bwb.


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